Lazarus
by Doxiesrcool
Summary: Prophecy & politics collide as Trance's past haunts the crew. COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

Title: Lazarus Author: Anna McLain Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: 1st season Andromeda. Takes place during the first season. DO NOT ARCHIVE, PLEASE! Disclaimer: The author claims no rights to Andromeda or its characters. Original characters and situations are the property of the author. ~~~~~**~~~~~  
  
THIS STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN THE FANZINE, 'ANYWHERE, ANYTIME', BY GREEN DRAGON PRESS. URL: www.greendragonpress.net  
  
Still available in print (with other stories) for $9.00. Available to post online, May '03.  
  
~~~~~**~~~~~  
  
Author's notes: Thank you kindly to my betas: David and Jen.  
  
This was one of my very first Andromeda stories, so inconsistencies are entirely my fault. Feedback or coffee are welcome as they make me stronger.  
  
LAZARUS  
  
By Anna McLain  
  
Rated PG-13  
  
~~~*~~~ Chapter 1 ~~~*~~~  
  
Messiahs are not born of flesh, rather created of superstition, fear and greed.  
--Nietzschean proverb.  
  
Trance Gemini was naked except for her panties. Dark eyes closed, she inhaled the fragrance of the bubble bath that she had concocted herself from plant extracts and oils. It gave her the impression of rain on flowers, chocolate and the sweet nuts outside her granny's cottage, the damp earth and grasses she used to lay in to watch the triple moons set.  
  
It wasn't often that she could indulge in a soothing bubble bath. Life was too hectic aboard a star ship. The Andromeda Ascendant could easily manufacture the bubbles but Trance preferred her own. She tipped the vial and watched the stream of pink liquid drizzle into her makeshift tub. It pooled on the bottom. She nudged the water hose then scampered back into the bathroom to turn on the tap. She adjusted the water to its highest volume and let it run over her lavender fingertips until it reached a comfortable chill. Her scented bubbles worked best in water the same tepid temperature as the pond that ran both in and out of Granny's cottage.  
  
The cargo bin, converted into a makeshift tub, was just outside the bathroom door, surrounded by some of her favorite large and draping plants. All the touches of home. Well, some of the touches of home and touches from other people's homes. Turning off the tap, she attached the end of the hose to the faucet.  
  
Tonight was another in a string of diplomatic dances held to celebrate the addition of the Soltan System to the new Commonwealth. It was rumored that they lived hard and partied hard. It would be a very long night. A nice bubble bath would put her chi on the right path.  
  
She opened her expressive eyes. An impish grin spread across her lavender features. A bubble bath was exactly what she needed. She glanced at the large metal watertight cargo bin she'd persuaded Harper to give her. He'd been undeniably curious about its purpose and she toyed with the idea of actually telling him. She giggled, almost able to see his expression of shock. He was fun to tease. However, if she had told he'd probably install surveillance equipment to see what the pink bubbles didn't hide. A violet flush spread across her delicate cheekbones. The idea wasn't all bad. Harper was a bit childish and annoying at times, but he also made her laugh. Her best friend, he was cute in a harmless way.  
  
She turned on the water then went to kneel beside the tub. The air filled with the hypnotic hum of liquid hitting metal. She rested her elbow on the edge of the tub, chin in palm and let the soft drumming of the stream against the side of the metal tub lull her into her memories.  
  
**The water cooled her skin; hot from hours spent picking lyla berries and tubers along the banks of the Kaylarz Tributary. Home was cool, lush and carefree under the twin blue suns and fluffy white clouds. The drifting scent of berry mush and tuber cakes made her mouth water and her stomach growl. Trance relaxed in the huge natural bath, fed by the flow of spring water into the pond outside and through the small openings in the house.  
  
"Trance, Dear, hurry out of the bath now," Granny called from the kitchen. " Dinner is nearly ready. I cooked up the lyla berries you gathered with Macea. You need to eat tonight and keep up your strength for the ceremony." Pots and pans clattered as she prepared dinner in their old clay oven.  
  
Trance shivered at the thought of the impending hand fasting ceremony. Benler was nice enough, but she didn't want to marry him, even if the actual marriage wouldn't begin for a year.  
  
"Just imagine," Granny had said the day she told Trance who had been chosen as her husband. "Benler Frazir, so handsome, so young. His family has deep empathy as strong as any of the ancestors. You'll cement his gift into our line. Good for your children, eh?" She had looked so happy.  
  
Trance kicked defiantly at the delicate bubbles floating around her in the water. Benler indeed! He was mean, swatting at Macea's puppy when he thought no one was looking, and he was old. He was twenty-eight! He would be nearly thirty when they married officially! The ceremony was in less than a month, on her thirteenth birthday. With tears stinging her eyes, she wished it wouldn't come.  
  
No! She didn't want to marry. She wanted to leave the People, leave Home and travel to the stars like the ancients in the stories Grandpa used to tell. They left and used their gifts to spread peace and light throughout the universe.  
  
"None of our business," Granny would say. "if the outsiders want to destroy themselves, so be it. Our place is here. The People are here on Home."  
  
Trance sighed deeply. Her throat burned and her nose ran. She rubbed the tears from her eyes lest Granny see them. She would have to be told soon enough that Trance refused to marry simply to further her family name. She knew for a fact that Benler didn't want to take her surname. He wanted to keep that of his first wife, Celica Frazir.  
  
She gulped in cool air scented with baking tuber cakes and took deep breaths to calm herself. She reached a decision. She would tell Granny that night at dinner that she wanted to leave for the stars. She could see beyond the ordinary to how the little things affected everything else. She wanted to use that talent to change the future.  
  
"Trance?" Granny's voice interrupted her young dreams. She quickly donned her thin billowy one-piece shorts outfit and, using her long tail, swung up through the levels of the cottage. The upper level swayed gently in the pervasive breezes, gently shifting with the living trees that supported the walls and allowed access to each level.  
  
She glanced out the window as she tied back her long curls with a braid of moss and zenna flowers. The walkways connecting the cottage to the others in the village swayed softly in the breeze, fragrant with fruits and living things ... . **  
  
"Trance?" Rommie's voice over the Com system startled her into the present.  
  
Memories of her far distant childhood evaporated. Trance shook her head.  
  
"Um ... yes?"  
  
"We have received notification that the guests for tonight's welcoming ball will be arriving early. We have to prepare now."  
  
"Now?" Trance said, giving her rapidly filling bath a mournful look.  
  
"Yes. You have twenty minutes," the avatar replied.  
  
"I'll be ready," she said and shut off the water with a sigh. Twenty minutes wasn't enough time for a decent bubble bath, so she would have to wait until the ball was over and try again. Still, the ball was important. After all of this time, Dylan had persuaded another system to join the New Commonwealth. She felt badly that he had toiled for years only to have less than twenty-five worlds join him on his quest. Despite the threat of the Magog Worldship, everyone wanted someone else to rescue them without committing to help their neighbors. It was sad. As she turned to leave the bathroom, a psychic vision struck her; she swayed and fell against the sink, gripping it with fingers gone colorless. The vision overwhelmed her, blurring her senses of the real world.  
  
** ... Pain. Excruciating pain stabbed her torso. She lay on stained sheets. Hot sweat burned her eyes. Pain, tearing, ripping agony clawed at her body like a wild beast. A newborn's shriek pierced her red veil of pain. She screamed. Fire. Heat. A man's fists beating down again and again. A crowd chanting. The baby held up before them. Darkness ... **  
  
The psychic vision evaporated as quickly as it had come. These insights usually came and went suddenly, although not in such a physically powerful fashion. Trance breathed rapidly, kneeling on the floor. She shivered. This vision shook her to her core with its abruptness. She could almost feel the bruises on her skin from the beating and the pain of labor that she had never actually gone through. The pain, the child, they belonged to someone else. She licked her lips, still feeling at a loss for the exact meaning of her vision. They usually explained themselves though this one was familiar ... could it be the one she waited for? Could this be the one that signaled a change in the entire future of the three galaxies?  
  
Instinctively, she knew it was a vision of the recent past. Someone else's past. The future always came to her with several options, different paths. Sometimes, time opened up to her like a rose unfolding petal upon petal. Often it gave her a glimpse deep inside before closing. Instinctively, she knew which vision was past, complete, and which a possible future. This vision was solid. It was past. She frowned, wondering how it would change the ethereal visions of the future she had seen, shift the ebb and flow of energy she felt around her.  
  
She could feel some of the seeds she had sown so long ago beginning to bear fruit. Many years before, after first leaving home, she'd found refuge with a group of other seekers, visionaries. Following their secret credo mixed with the teachings of her people's priestesses, she spread myths and legends designed to instill hope in people of all races to shorten the impending Long Night, to give strength to light over darkness. The secret society shared her credo that peace and love could change the world. They all firmly believed. They all followed the same course of action simultaneously. Synchronicity. She felt a pang of regret. So many of her friends in the society were obliterated when the great night came. She felt alone and she didn't recall ever visiting Solta Uno to plant these particular myths.  
  
Shaken by the strength of the vision, she pulled herself off the floor and quickly donned her new dress. This form-fitting blue-black dress had golden star shaped spangles and a teal spider web design imprinted on it, very like the webs of the Tracas spiders back home. She smoothed it over her curves, enjoying the soft and fuzzy feel of the material, the vision fading quickly. She should have bought two of the dresses on Drift Max.  
  
^j^  
  
Saraann drifted into the transport with the last of the partygoers. Silently, she thanked Saints Valia and Jemi that the Regent had invited a random group of civilians to the Ball onboard the Andromeda Ascendant. Due to the fact that her fellow guests were mainly minor aristocracy, no one knew her identity or the person whose skull she had crushed to steal the boarding pass. Her mission was known only to the two of her brethren who, along with her, had escaped the burning of the Citadel and destruction of the outpost on Solta Uno.  
  
Remorse ran through her quickly and was gone. Death is often necessary on the path of righteousness. This death was unavoidable because it preserved the future, the prophecy. She knew the prophecy well, but few agreed that its time of fruition had come.  
  
She scowled. Fools, she thought. Even some of her fellow Essiiv believed she was misguided. They thought she'd misinterpreted the ancient data, a compilation of myths, prophecies and ancient writings gathered over the eons across the three galaxies. She knew better. She had seen the signs. They all pointed to the planet of Solta Uno, the seat of power in the Soltan government.  
  
Bella, Priestess in charge of the head office deep in the secret caves of Shadoe, had laughed in her face.  
  
Saraann could still hear Bella's cutting tone, "Really, Saraann, you're at least a century early. The One isn't due yet. Chaos is still too strong thanks to the Magog and the greed of humankind and its many derivatives. The ancients didn't give us the foundation of our order for us to squander away the future. The prophecies of Saint Jemi and teachings of Valia must be used as given, not to our whims."  
  
Saraann had forced her temper down; staring up at Bella's white pompadour delicately adorned with sparkling flower jewels atop a craggy pale face. What a priestess needed with jewels, she wasn't sure. "But, the scrolls of Am ania –"  
  
"Are fakes." Bella waved a wrinkled hand in her direction and pursed her pencil thin flaky lips. "Come-on girl. You're one of our best operatives. Don't chase after folly. The facts simply don't support the rise of the chosen at this time. When Saint Jemi spoke to Valia, she was very specific. 'The child will arise after hope against chaos is sparked', Jemi said. There is no hope in the Universe yet, not on a grand scale."  
  
"I have studied the ancient texts of all our founding principles. The prophecy says, 'he will grow to aid Lazarus.' There have been reports of a long-dead High Guard officer resurrected to bring back the Commonwealth."  
  
Bella glanced at her sharply. Then her gaze softened. "I too have read of the High Guard Lazarus. But he was not truly dead, so he doesn't fit the prophecy." Close enough, Saraann thought bitterly.  
  
"As you wish, Saraann," Bella said sounding tired. "Take six acolytes with you to Solta Uno and found your outpost, build your Citadel. But beware, the Soltans are said to be a fickle lot, under the thumb of that fool, Fortnoy. A nest of serpents. They WILL turn on you."  
  
"We have been well trained to defend ourselves."  
  
"Perhaps," Bella said.  
  
"Thank you," Saraann told her as she turned to go. The older woman didn't respond, only dug her grizzled fingers into the damp soil of a potted flower. The slanting sunlight through the window did little to soften the deep wrinkles on the woman's face. Saraann waited a moment to see if Bella would bid her well. The old woman ignored her. Summarily dismissed, she left grumbling. "Probably just to be rid of me," she groused, "and rid of the other believers who interrupted her coffee and gardening."  
  
The Essiiv had secreted operatives on many planets throughout the triple galaxies; a net through which information flowed, myths were planted and power sucked into their coffers. Bella and those in charge believed the boy, the messiah, would rise to fulfill prophecy, prophecy in place long before the Essiiv itself became a cohesive group. They aspired to reach him first and control him, thereby controlling the entire known universe. But, Saraann knew their plan was flawed. The High Guard Lazarus had been rescued when he should have drifted from the singularity naturally a century later. He was early. Thus, the Divine brought the boy early too. She wanted him for a different reason, one that had little to do with the Essiiv's plans for power. "The universe moves as the Divine wills," she whispered.  
  
Now after five years work on Solta Uno and the lesser planets, Saraann sat beside a small group of happy natives, hoping they would ignore her in favor of conversation amongst themselves.  
  
The heavyset woman dressed in garish bright orange party clothes with gold threading who sat in the next seat gave her a broad gold-toothed smile. "First time in space? This is my first time. Isn't it wonderful? What a beautiful ship," she said in a singsong voice. "And invited by Regent Fortnoy himself?" She clapped ringed fingers together, making Saraann wince. "They're trying to restore the Commonwealth? Oh, the myths of my great-grandparents time come to pass."  
  
Saraann stilled the annoyance that welled up inside her, wishing the woman would be quiet. The woman was obviously aristocracy, much too well fed to be a commoner. She lived off the fat of the workers who died in the fields and mines. The heavy woman, indeed all of the aristocracy, lived in veritable luxury compared to the commoners. Sycophants on the Regent's nepotistic power, they turned blind eyes to the less fortunate. Saraann smoothed her expression into a nondescript mask, burying her rage. "Times of change bring many things to pass."  
  
"Yes, but have you been in space? It's wonderful. You can hardly tell that the ship is moving."  
  
'Of course, you idiot,' Saraann wanted to snap. But she held her tongue.  
  
She tucked her hair, dyed a very pale grayish blue so that she could pass as a half-Soltan highbred, back under her wide black headband, hoping the blithering fool would find interest in the others of her group. The woman chattered on about her children, the weather, and the terrible watering down of the purity of the Soltan race by interbreeding with the neighboring system's pink fleshed and dark-haired Belans. The fat woman looked too rosy- cheeked to be of full Soltan blood. A distant Belan uncle, perhaps? Hypocrite. She finally tuned the fat woman out and dipped her fingers into the large soft bag on her lap. The bag was plain, huge and of nondescript shape. She concentrated on it, willing her fingers not to clutch. She couldn't give anything away. Couldn't let them find out what she carried and toss her out of the airlock. The future of everything depended on her now.  
  
"Passes? Passes?" a dull-faced eunuch probed. He was dressed in the black livery of the Regent's Praetorian Guard and stomping down the aisle between over-occupied seats.  
  
She licked parched lips and pulled the bag a little closer to her chest. How many times were they going to check passes? She'd already shown it twice. She opened the bag just enough to insert one trembling hand. Her fingers brushed the sleeping innocent there and her heart skipped at the thought that he might wake. Then she found her pass and quickly pulled it out, buttoning the top of the bag before any roving eyes could see inside.  
  
The guard took the pass. His black ferret eyes narrowed. His tongue darted over thick pale pink lips, reminding her of a werrobeast slobbering over its dinner. He stared at her face through transparent lashes. His colorless hair was a bit too long to be regulation, brushing his brow. She wondered if the Regent's security had begun to slip. She decided she would never get used to the near colorlessness of the Soltan population. She forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny. The pass had no photo so there was no way they could doubt her claim. He shoved it back at her and moved on to the blithering woman beside her, who chattered happily to him in a nonstop stream. He barely glanced at her pass, obviously glad to move on.  
  
Saraann allowed her eyes to close for a second of relief, praying to Valia that no one noticed her shudder and thanking the Goddess of the Downtrodden that the innocent was still sleeping quietly in the bag. Only the Divine knew how the Soltan dictatorship would torture her if they found her. She swallowed hard. Graphic images of the mangled bodies of those victims the regime had 'taken care of' flashed through her mind. No, she had to succeed so that atrocities like that wouldn't happen again.  
  
TBC in ch 2.  
  
I apologize for any formatting snafus. I've reloaded this quite a few times and can't get it to look right in either htm or doc. Thank you for reading despite this. Anna 


	2. Chapter 2

~~~*~~~ Chapter 2 ~~~*~~~  
  
Some things are so secret they become myth.  
--Wayist Maxim, Sister Leonie Ellia Vin, CY 8,777  
  
Trance stood where Rommie positioned her beside the door. The two women smiled and greeted the guests as the line of people passed into the conference area. The room was now decorated in the silvers and greens of the Soltan government, which in the dim light was barely visible to the human crewmembers. As with Dylan's other negotiations, the soft blue lighting had been installed in deference to the aliens' sensitivity to regular yellow light. Local blue flowers adorned the walls glowing with self-luminescence. Quick, bouncy music that was sent ahead by the Regent's staff piped through the air. Along one wall was a long table stacked with the delicacies of the planet, Solta Uno, and the exotic delights from other systems that the Regent favored.  
  
Trance's attention wandered as her gaze followed a tall, broad shouldered man in a bright green tunic and gold pants through the door into the growing crowd. His muscular arms showed despite the willowy tunic top that the men all seemed to favor.  
  
Rommie elbowed her in the ribs and shot her a piercing glance for ignoring the other guests. This wasn't the time to shirk one's duty. She shrugged apologetically and flashed the avatar a guilty smile. Bored, she tried to pick out environmental changes in the Soltans. They were obviously descended from Homo sapiens, though eons on a planet with a single dim blue sun had given them very pale grayish skin and enormous eyes. The lines on their faces were said to be ritualistic scars; inflicted on children as a passage into adulthood. Barbaric, she thought, but cultural. They resembled a white spider web overlaid on their features. The gravity must be very low, she thought, to let them grow so extremely tall. Most were at least as tall as Tyr, her Nietzschean crewmate.  
  
Ship's Engineer Seamus Zelazny Harper strolled in, tugging at the starched collar of his shirt. He stopped beside the women, giving them a 'why me?' look that fit in perfectly with his unruly dark blond hair and the twinkle in his blue eyes made iridescent by his turquoise shirt. "So, how'd Rev luck out? Why isn't he stuffed into a sparkly foo-foo shirt?"  
  
Rommie shrugged. "A prayer session, he said. Something about imminent prophecies."  
  
"What? Did he read that this was gonna be the dance of the dead ... literally?" he whispered, shooting a sideways glance at a nearby alien with grayish skin and scars crisscrossing his face. He winced.  
  
"Harper!" she hissed. "You will keep your voice down and show our new compatriots some respect. You are an adult, not a hormone-ridden teenager. Do not say everything that comes into your head or you'll start a war."  
  
"War, shmore. They have puny mudskippers, not interstellar travel," he whispered. "What're they gonna do, catapult rocks at us? Besides, they look like zombies." He waggled his fingers in front of the avatar's face, widening his eyes and making ghostly sounds.  
  
"Funny." She frowned. "Their skin is nearly translucent because they've lived so long under a very dim blue sun."  
  
"And they were once human, Harper," Trance added.  
  
He wrinkled his brow. "How do you figure?"  
  
The acting medical officer continued, "Look at them! Look at their environment.  
  
They're obviously humans who adapted over the eons to their planet. Can't you see that?"  
  
"Nope. So, you mean if I homestead on a dim Drift my grandkids will look like bug-eyed cadavers?"  
  
She frowned, looking slightly hurt. "That's one possibility."  
  
"Terrific." He shrugged sarcastically and sauntered off with a smirk.  
  
Trance sighed at his seeming ignorance and plastered a smile on her face.Thoughts of the bubble bath in her room made her smile waver. It was going to be a very long night.  
  
The plum colored girl tried to be gracious as the guests filed in and Rommie welcomed them. Most of the Soltans returned the smile and ignored her android companion. As she smiled and pointed the way to the refreshment tables, she noticed a lone woman tense when spoken to, clutch her oversized soft bag, and then visibly relax.  
  
Trance mused, "How odd."  
  
The woman strolled into the crowd and stopped near the food table, eyeing the Regent, who stood speaking to Dylan Hunt, Captain of the Andromeda Ascendant.  
  
Abruptly, a man bumped into Trance breaking her concentration. She stumbled backward. Strong hands caught her and steadied her on her feet.  
  
"Ah, forgive me, please, Miss," the man apologized in a soft alto, releasing her and bowing before her, revealing a shining high forehead.  
  
Her large dark eyes widened as she gave him a quick appraising glance and blushed a deep plum. "It's all right. You don't have to do that," Trance said, giving the room an embarrassed glance. Her long lavender tail twitched nervously behind her.  
  
He straightened, extending a hand with six long, slender fingers.  
  
Trance grasped the offered hand. She gazed up into his deep green eyes and knew she could like this man. It happened that way sometimes. She just knew things, felt things, even saw things occasionally. She had learned early in her travels not to attempt to explain her abilities. She'd made that mistake when she was very young. Those who could not understand her powers or her people feared her. Those who could comprehend wanted to exploit her. Ignorance is bliss ... for some.  
  
"I am called Morsay," the tall man introduced himself.  
  
"Trance Gemini," she replied coyly, cocking her head and favoring him with a white-toothed innocuous smile.  
  
"I have not seen your species before, he remarked, studying her figure.  
  
She shrugged with a giggle and played with the end of her tail. "We don't get out much."  
  
"Neither do we." He chuckled low in his throat, giving the room a sweeping glance. The aroma of sweet roasted meat mixed with the flowery scent of the table decorations. "They're playing a rousing Marshland tune. The Marshlanders have little to do all day but compose frilly songs."  
  
Trance caught the trace of sarcasm in his voice and wondered at it before he smiled. He certainly looked happy and successful. Why was he so bitter?  
  
Morsay leaned closer to her. "Still, they do compel one to dance." He motioned toward a flurry of whirling dancers in the middle of the room.  
  
"I'd love to," she accepted eagerly.  
  
He pulled her into the crowd.  
  
Rommie smiled wistfully as the sight of her crewmate's dance. However, her pleasure soured as she gazed upon the refreshment table's many empty platters. The Soltans descended upon the table like ravenous wolves. The platters were picked clean, shining as though freshly washed. Not a single crumb lay abandoned. Performing a quick mental calculation, she decided they would soon run out of food and drink. Stepping out into the quieter corridor, she activated her intercom and called, "Beka."  
  
"What?" snapped Beka Valentine's harried voice.  
  
"You've been granted a reprieve," the avatar informed her. "We're going to run out of refreshments. I need you to return to the Castle and speak to the Regent's man for more supplies. Are you willing?"  
  
"Whoo hoo!" Beka crowed through the intercom. "I'll be back soon."  
  
"I'll take that as a yes," Rommie said dryly and returned to the party, amazed at the other woman's utter lack of respect for diplomacy. Beka's in- your-face style often complimented Captain Hunt's diplomatic grace, as alarming as she found the notion.  
  
^j^  
  
Harper scanned the crowd, picking out the viable women. True the Soltans were a bit on the gruesome side, with their almost translucent gray-white skin and the scars carved into their bodies during the adolescent rites of passage. But, hey, a female was a female when you'd been alone long enough. He rubbed his palms together like Scrooge salivating over a pile of unclaimed cash and went to test his pickup lines on each woman in turn.  
  
Thirty minutes later, slightly discouraged but still determined he approached a tall woman in an electric red tunic dress. Her stringy hair was the same barely grayish blue that marked all of her people. Her eyes were a huge deep green. Her face and small nose were covered in a spider web of thin white scars. If he squinted, he thought she could pass for pretty in the dim light with high-sculpted cheekbones and large eyes. So, he tried his best line.  
  
"So, what's a willowy babe like you doin' so far from the center of the universe?"  
  
She turned and ran her gaze over his body boldly. Then she smiled and perched on the very edge of the table so that their eyes were level. "I'm a pawn," she said in a husky voice as smooth and soft as velvet. She blinked slowly, like a cat studying dinner.  
  
He shivered. Outer beauty? He no longer cared. "Yeah? In whose game? Cause I, Seamus Zelazny Harper, know a lot of games."  
  
She laughed, a clear sound like a cascade of tinkling bells, and ran one long, short-nailed finger along the side of his face. "So do I."  
  
A lopsided smile broke out on his face. "More wine?"  
  
"Mmm ... " she purred.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr scowled at his mirror, inwardly cursing the frivolity of yet another diplomatic excuse for a party. Of course, the humans all loved the music and dancing, no matter how they might complain. Nietzscheans took their dancing as seriously as their fighting. For the hundredth time, he straightened the sparkling blue Delvian silk shirt that Rommie insisted he wear. He shook his head slowly in frustration. There was a time and a place for decorative clothing. A frivolous show of diplomacy to a tiny back-drift world with little power and no space fleet did not demand any niceties on his part. He whipped the shirt off, careful not to rip it in deference to the ship's avatar, and hung it in the very back of the tiny closet in his quarters.  
  
He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Yes, he made the perfect picture of Nietzschean strength; chain-mail tank top allowing his burgeoning muscles to show that he could crush them in hand to hand combat. Chain-mail wasn't comfortable to wear, however it was a daunting symbol of strength. Long black braids spoke of the unbridled passion of an ancient Highland warrior, and the force lance slung low on his leather-clad hips stated without a doubt that he was always prepared to defend himself. He allowed himself a small cocky grin. Yes, he was ready. A show of force was always best in a new situation, particularly for such a weak ally.  
  
With a quick glance around his Spartan quarters, he dimmed the light and slipped down the hall toward the music. Behind him, the door slid shut automatically. He sauntered along the corridor, neither eager to attend the party nor happy to be in a large group of loud, fragile-looking people.  
  
TBC in ch 3. 


	3. Chapter 3

~~~*~~~ Chapter 3 ~~~*~~~  
  
He will lead us from chaos. He is the Way. The Way is Light. Chaos will be tamed. Light will reign.  
--Oral History of the Essiiv  
  
Saraann eyed the crowd with mixed emotions. The plum-colored woman was here. The pieces had all begun to fall into place. There was no mistaking her. The woman was unlike any other humanoid she had ever seen. Yet, they knew her kind. The believers, the Essiiv, the followers of ancient prophecy and protectors of the future would recognize one of the Ancients on sight. The color of the Kvilain sky just before sunset, their existence was a carefully guarded secret. The Ancient had gazed at her when she entered as though she could see her hidden purpose and reap the very depths of her soul. Perhaps, she could. It was said her kind could see and manipulate the unseen forces of nature, even speak with the plants as they grew. It had to be her. The plum woman would have the Sight.  
  
Perhaps, she was more than just the woman in the prophecies. Perhaps, she was actually the true Saint, Saint Jemi -- the Divine Being who materialized in a silver fog to sit beside Lake Hanna on Elysia 4. She told Valia, a simple native priestess at the time, of the child whom would one- day restore order to the universe after a long and arduous night, four centuries before the Nietzscheans and Magog invaded. Yes, perhaps.  
  
Saraann sank into the shadows; her back pressed to the wall that gently pulsed with the beat of the music, sifting speculations in her mind. Her gaze darted around the room, identifying, cataloguing people present, dangers inherent.  
  
^j^  
  
Basil Fortnoy, Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, stood taller than most Soltan natives. He attributed this fact to his undiluted royal lineage back through the foggy eons to the original settlers of the system whom he regarded as superior beings and not human. This lineage gave him power over the ignorant and superstitious commoners.  
  
Saraann snorted, looking at him from under dark lashes. Little did he know the Believers had a true accounting of history, a written record of every atrocity committed by the major royal lines that vied for dominance in the system. A record that included interbreeding in the Regent's own very human line with every other Soltan major house. The Soltans were indeed undiluted humans, mutated over the eons by their environment and inbreeding. She was thankful she wasn't one of them.  
  
The Regent's broad, toothy smile didn't reach his spider black eyes as the Captain of the human ship directed him with a gracious smile to a seat at the most decorated table. Bile rose in Saraann's throat. To treat that snake with such honor! The Regent folded himself into the seat with the grace of a giant Praying Mantis, snapping his fingers for servants to bring him Worm wine. Only decades of practice allowed Saraann to keep scorn and disgust from pinching her features. Most of the commoners bought the rhetoric that the Regent's staff planted -- that he was descended from ancient gods.  
  
Abruptly wrought with an irrational fear of capture, Saraann bit back the urge to bolt from the room and search for a hiding place for her precious cargo, yet it was too soon. Someone would surely notice. Better to let them consume more of the brandy-soaked sweetbreads and Rakean Worm wine until their minds were too clouded to know who stood beside them. Better to let the woman forget her while she danced with the Plainsman. She soothed her fears with a quick prayer to Valia and Jemi. A small part of her rejoiced in the joy of the partygoers. There was no pain in this room -- none save her own. There were no prayers for the future, no horror at the present. No work. No starvation. No death. Ignorance. Bliss.  
  
The smell of the food table wafted over her. Her mouth began to water, her limbs to tremble. It had been two days since she had eaten, all food going to the precious one she carried with her, mashed and thinned until he could eat it. She drifted closer to the table and scanned the food without touching it. She tore herself away then, admonishing herself for her moment of weakness. She could not put herself before her mission. HE was paramount. His safety was more important than food. She would eat after he was safe ... if she still lived.  
  
The door to the room slid open once more, allowing a tall dark skinned man to enter. Her heart quickened. She knew who he was ... what he was. He was Nietzschean. A would-be conqueror and torturer of the weak. Plus, he was here with the other ... just as the prophecy stated. She forced her gaze away from the imposing man. He should not see her. If he caught her spying on him, her mission was doomed. She took several deep slow breaths to calm her racing heart. He would hear it and become suspicious. After he walked away from the entrance, she tried to appear frivolous and happy despite the whirlwind churning inside her. She slowly worked her way along the wall, through the crowd, toward the door. She had to put some distance between herself and the distraction of the food table. She had to be in position to leave quickly. She could show no weakness now in the vital hour. She stood beside a large potted tree, cradling the bag slung over her shoulder across her stomach and watching the dancers spin to the music.  
  
^j^  
  
Reverend Behemial Far Traveler reverently turned the yellowed pages of the ancient text. The paper crackled beneath his long razor-clawed fingers despite his gentle touch. Tiny flakes came off on his olive drab skin and crushed to dust on his fingertips. He said a quick prayer to the Divine, omnipotent God of everything, to spare the ancient book and its secrets from entropy. There was just something soothing about touching the pages, something serene in the solidity of written words on paper that was lacking in flexis and computer screens. Too many ancient texts had already been lost to time and apathy.  
  
As he scoured the old prophecies an undercurrent of excitement rippled through him. The universe as they knew it was on the cusp of a major event. If one sifted through enough ancient texts and prophecies, one could almost see the pieces fall into place, pieces that clung together with a vaporous hold, yet clung all the same. He could almost ... almost say what the major event would be. He could feel it, like a word on the tip of his tongue, almost realized but not quite grasped.  
  
He closed his eyes, meditating on the words he had studied over the past two months. He had little else to do aboard the Andromeda. He let the words flow through his mind, unchecked, allowing them to mingle and run together. He hoped that his subconscious, into which the Divine whispered, would combine the various prophecies and events into an epiphany.  
  
After an indeterminate amount of time, he sighed. No revelation was forthcoming. Disappointment weighed him down, but he shook off the exhaustion and desire to wander to the observation deck and admire the stars. There was much work to be done.  
  
Laughter echoed distantly in the corridor beyond his room alerting him that Dylan's latest diplomatic ball was underway. He and Dylan had decided he should stay hidden during the negotiations and celebrations. The Magog had, thankfully, skipped over this small system. However, with the World ship in transit, no system was guaranteed a safe future. Nevertheless, the Rev was quick to point out that the Magog reputation was the stuff of nightmares universally. It was safer for him to remain in his quarters where he preferred to be, studying history and the Way of the Divine. After his experiences on the Magog Worldship, his backslide into defensive murder; he had kept mainly to himself. He no longer completely trusted his own self- control, so perhaps it was safer for the guests as well.  
  
Standing up slowly, he stretched his stiff muscles before pulling another tattered paper book from the tall stack beside his altar and resuming his meditation once more.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr sighed when he sauntered into the room. It was packed with bodies, many unwashed, his extremely sensitive nose told him. With the appearance of ultimate boredom he stopped before Rommie, glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and deadpanned, "I've made an entrance My duty has been fulfilled." She shook her head imperceptibly and disagreed with the man who towered over her. "Not exactly, Tyr. Dylan's orders have been amended to state that all crew members must be in attendance for a minimum of thirty minutes."  
  
"Or?"  
  
"Or, you forfeit your next shore leave."  
  
"Pity." His frustration didn't penetrate his apathetic façade. Shore leave, as Captain Dylan Hunt called it, was the only thing that kept his boredom from lashing out like a ferocious beast at certain whiny shipmates.  
  
His gaze fell upon the ship's engineer, Harper, weaving through the crowd on the heels of a ghostly pale woman with equally pale stringy hair adorned with jeweled butterflies in a hopeless attempt to make her appealing. Tyr assessed the woman quickly; too thin to be a good bearer of Nietzschean children. She had muscle tone but long frail bones. Her gaze showed a marked lack of intelligence as she turned away from Harper. Not a good specimen at all. For a brief moment, Tyr felt sorry for the short, witty and talented engineer, even though he was annoying and immature. If the poor breeding choices shied away from him, would he ever procreate?  
  
"And what happened to the blue shirt and the grey trousers?" she reprimanded.  
  
He turned to her, bent and stared evenly into the avatar's chocolate colored eyes.  
  
"They sparkled," he enunciated carefully.  
  
She returned his gaze without flinching. "So does your chain mail, which you can't always wear."  
  
"Watch me. It presents a formidable persona."  
  
"It wouldn't hurt you to be sociable, though I'm aware that isn't the Nietzschean thing to do."  
  
"We have our own definition of 'sociable' and this is not one of them."  
  
She raised an eyebrow gracefully. "Then what is it?"  
  
"A time to be on guard. Just because Dylan persuaded these people to sign a piece of paper and agree to join the resurrected Commonwealth, doesn't mean they can be trusted."  
  
"Trust may be all we have."  
  
He straightened and scanned the crowd thoroughly. "I hear several heartbeats racing like speeding freight trains. I smell fear in this room. I see deceit in some of their eyes. There is much they are not telling us. Trust is for fools." He strode off toward the food table, shouldering aside a heavyset Soltan who piled his plate with one of everything with hands covered in so many rings that he almost couldn't lift them.  
  
She frowned as he departed, disturbed by his words. The Nietzschean's announcements might not always be polite, but his observations were undoubtedly correct. She decided to inform Dylan just to be safe.  
  
^j^  
  
"He won't disobey orders, Rommie. Every crowd has some intrigue. He probably smelled someone's fear of dancing and Harper's racing heart as he tries to score. Or the clicking of teeth during the feeding frenzy. Relax. Have some fun."  
  
She gave her Captain a dubious look. "If you say so."  
  
"I do. Just look around, Rommie. Your shipmates are all having fun. Well, except Tyr, but that's not unusual. And Beka, who's not here yet."  
  
Dylan chuckled at the sight of Trance laughing out loud, as the tall Soltan spun her around. He nodded in greeting to Regent Fortnoy, seated at the table of honor across the room. The tall, lithe man raised his glass of wine in salute, then bent close to his Second in Command and the Captain of the Guard, deep in whispered conversation. Dylan glanced from the crowd to his avatar. The look of distance on her face made him turn toward her.  
  
"May I have this dance?" he asked hoping to cheer her up.  
  
She blinked at him in surprise. "But I thought we weren't supposed to ... "  
  
"Even friends dance, Rommie." He reached down and took her hand, missing her brief look of wide-eyed fear.  
  
She smiled brightly when he looked at her and allowed him to pull her onto the dance floor. "But, Dylan, I don't know how to dance," she protested.  
  
He smiled. "I'll lead." He pulled her close enough for her sensors to feel his body heat, yet they were not touching. Her skin was thrummed with energy, though she knew that was impossible. The music was unfamiliar to them both, having been sent ahead by the Regent's Second, but he seemed to anticipate its ebb and flow.  
  
She tried to do the same, but the music's uneven mathematical patterns made it difficult to predict them.  
  
Dylan leaned close. "Close your eyes and trust me. I won't let you fall."  
  
Rommie peered up into his blue eyes and realized she did trust him. He was her Captain, her lifeline. She closed her eyes. The gentle pressure of his fingertips on her hip and the others clasping her hand gave her direction. Suddenly, she was glad her ship self had transferred all of her emotions into this body, this avatar. She could feel the music, almost sense the waves crashing on a distant beach and the cool evening breeze. She lost track of the other dancers. Fast. Slow. Fast. Slow. The music carried them away. She imagined they danced on soft sand, the stars in audience above. Alone, together. He steered her with strong and capable hands. When the music slowed and finally stopped, she found she was breathless, despite having no lungs. Emotions roiled within her. She gazed up at him with wide, surprised eyes. Who could know a simple dance could addle her brain, as Harper would say?  
  
He smiled down at her, raised one hand and almost imperceptibly brushed her cheek. "Sometimes it's like that, Andromeda," he said softly. Then turned and strode to sit beside the Regent at the head table as if unaware of how deeply his proximity touched her.  
  
She stood for a moment, staring after him. A hurricane of emotions played out inside her. Love, duty, emptiness, loss and desire, joy and sorrow, these were all human emotions. Did they matter in an Artificial Intelligence? She wasn't a woman. She was a war ship, a machine, and the extension of a man-made creation. She wasn't entitled to emotion, to love ... was she? She wondered about it for the thousandth time, until the notes of the next song echoed through the room. She gathered herself up and decided to ponder these things later.  
  
A man tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance. With a last glance at her Captain, she smiled and accepted.  
  
^j^  
  
Saraann watched the crowds slowly get blitzed. Most of the revelers had imbibed too much Rakean Worm wine and laughed or danced with slightly glazed eyes. The Soltans adored a good party, particularly if it was free. The chance to escape the daily drudgery and hardships of a 50% tithe to the Regent was a good excuse to indulge. The aristocracy who crammed the room stuffed their faces and had never worked hard in their lives, never wanted for water or food, heat or clothing. Yet, they acted like starving dehydrated fools. Disgust welled up in Saraann's throat. The opulence in this room alone could be sold for enough Soltan ducas to power an entire village for years. The food on the tables could feed the same village for six months. The waste was obscene.  
  
The recent bought of mysterious fires and infant disappearances added to her malaise. It was the last straw. She'd seen too much death, too much suffering. That was why she had to succeed; to bring light to a universe gone mad. She felt the bag hanging across her stomach twitch. She started. The sedative must have begun to wear off. She would have to move quickly.  
  
Relaxing her shoulders so as not to appear tense or completely sober, she sauntered out of the door into the corridor. The corridor itself held many of the revelers as the party spilled into quieter confines and the aristocracy looked for anything it could get its grubby hands on. She inquired as to the location of a lavatory and followed directions until she came to a corner around which was an empty corridor. She stepped around the corner, pressing her back to the wall while she awaited discovery. No one noticed her passage.  
  
She let out a deep uneven breath. Her bag twitched again. A soft mewling whimper emanated from it. "Shh ... hush now," she murmured and patted the bag.  
  
"Not long now and you'll be safe."  
  
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she jogged down the dim corridor, uncertain of her destination, but quite sure she'd know it when she found it.  
  
^j^  
  
Trance laughed uproariously and took the crystalline glass of Rakean Worm wine. She didn't care if it was really made from worms or if that was just a silly moniker given to it, though if it were made from worms that would be really yucky and she wouldn't want to know anyway. Morsay whispered to her again and she stifled a belly laugh.  
  
"This wine is really strong," she spluttered thinking that killing herself slowly in the human fashion was becoming way too easy. The alcohol made her head spin and her stomach do somersaults that weren't very pleasant. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears nearly drowning out the music.  
  
He grinned, his huge dark eyes twinkling. They reminded her of the small furry animals of home; the ones that scampered around in the caves and seldom ventured into the light. "It was first brewed by the mine workers to escape the pleasures of eighteen hours of daily toil."  
  
"Oh." She gasped, peering down into her glass. The mint green liquid gave no sign that it was a savior of the working man.  
  
Morsay waved a hand in her direction. "No need to feel pity. Such are the ways of the world. Some are born slaves, others to enjoy the fruits of labor."  
  
She gave him a slightly sad look, then suddenly brightened. "Do you like plants?"  
  
He blinked, trying to keep her in focus. He swayed slightly on his feet and gulped the rest of the wine in his glass. "Hmm, yes, as long as they aren't morrax tubers." He leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, "Hideous, awful creeping things. They are flesh eaters. Horrid, horrid."  
  
Trance's eyes widened as she replied, "Well, uh ... I don't have any of those, I'm sure. But, I have a lot of nice plants. Pretty ones. They're all friendly."  
  
He extended an arm, wide smile showing sharp teeth. "Lead the way."  
  
TBC in ch 4 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the feedback! It's nice to know people are reading.  
  
~~~*~~~ Chapter 4 ~~~*~~~  
  
The path of least resistance is not always the best route to your destination.  
-- Wayist Proverb.  
  
"So, you stopped the uprising?" Dylan interjected into the Regent's history lesson when the man paused for breath.  
  
Regent Basil Fortnoy narrowed his eyes, searching for hidden meanings in the question. Finding none in Dylan's unguarded eyes, he laughed a little too happily and waved one hand dismissively. "Fhaa! They were a minor nuisance at best. Of course, we ran them out. We are supreme!" he bragged, making a show of standing and sipping the crystal goblet of Rakean Worm wine he had been nursing for three hours. "Just a tiny insurrection comprised of farmers and some insignificant group of religious fanatics. They are quite taken care of."  
  
Something in his tone gave Dylan a chill. He could well imagine how they had been 'taken care of.' The Regent glanced at his host over the rim of his glass with eyes as large and brittle as lumps of coal. At that point, the Captain decided that he might have dismissed Tyr's suppositions too soon.  
  
"They won't be back to bother you then. One less problem for our new Commonwealth, eh?" said the Regent, elbowing Dylan in the arm. "Our new little empire?"  
  
"We rooted them out!" crowed the Regent's Second, Luter Valnos, with a grand sweep of his arm. "They wouldn't dare rise against the Regent of the Seven Kingdoms again."  
  
The Regent set his glass down hard, slopping some of the liquid onto the blue and gold tablecloth. "Fhaa! We'll chase them to the ends of the universe, they with their silly dreams of messiah's and fairy tales. A nest of serpents, I say, killing babies and incinerating structures. We won't let them continue. I had a special task force take care of the problem. But, enough of this nonsense. Tell me, Captain Hunt, of this Commonwealth of yours. Is it to be better than the last one? The last version did fail, didn't it?" Greed and thinly disguised malice infused his dark green eyes and vanished.  
  
Just long enough for Dylan to see it and recognize it. "Even Rome fell eventually," he parried thoughtfully.  
  
The Regent studied Dylan with narrowed eyes and countered, "So I've heard. But they didn't have to route the Nietzscheans."  
  
"True."  
  
"Dylan," Andromeda appeared on the viewscreen a few feet from them. Dylan made a polite excuse to the Regent, stood and crossed to the screen.  
  
"Must be important," he pitched his voice low so those around him wouldn't hear.  
  
"What's up, Andromeda?"  
  
"A few moments ago," she reported with a skeptical arch of one elegant brow, "I detected a transmission from the surface to someone onboard. I traced it to the head table, the Regent's Second. It was encrypted. Of course, I could break it."  
  
He glanced over his shoulder toward the table. Second Valnos leaned in close to Regent Fortnoy, whispering and flailing his hands wildly. Fortnoy's large nostrils flared. He covered a frown with two long fingers, then whispered back. Valnos scurried off, stopping to gather and speak to several partygoers.  
  
Suddenly, Dylan felt the fingers of a headache dig into his temples and clench.  
  
"Also, Soltan natives are roaming freely through many of my corridors," she continued softly.  
  
"Have they stolen anything?"  
  
"Nothing vital that I can tell. But several have engaged in ... inappropriate ... behavior in the dormant crew quarters. If they'll do this as guestsâ€""  
  
He frowned, stopping her in mid-sentence. "They've had a lot of Worm wine. Monitor them for theft or sabotage, but otherwise, leave them alone." He leaned closer and whispered, "We need to end this as quickly as possible. Watch Second Valnos. I don't know what's happening ... yet."  
  
"Yes, Captain," she said.  
  
"And let me know as soon as the rest of our guests have docked, " he said in a normal tone. "I want to be there to meet them."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Dylan," Rommie called, standing behind him.  
  
He turned, once again struck by Harper's success in transforming one of the service bots into a humanoid version of the Andromeda. If anything, she was more beautiful than the viewscreen image or the holographic version of his ship's AI. Plus, she seemed to be developing a separate personality, one that made her seem more human than android. Something about an emotion chip, Harper had said.  
  
"We're running out of Worm wine and Elaccaan meat pies."  
  
"Can you synthesize some?"  
  
"No. They contain spices I am unfamiliar with. Besides, I sent Beka to the surface for more. She left for the Castle an hour ago and has already verified she is on her way back. When she docks we'll need help carrying the trays."  
  
Dylan scanned the partygoers. "Have Harper help you."  
  
"He's not here."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He left with a woman. Surprise, surprise," she quipped.  
  
"You're kidding?"  
  
She snorted. "I thought the dancing had made me delusional, but it was real."  
  
"Well, I'll be." He smiled and motioned toward the food tables. "Tyr's over there looking thrilled, as usual, to be amongst inferiors. Ask him to help." He chuckled softly, thinking how she seemed to enjoy dogging the large man more and more often these days.  
  
"I will." She agreed, allowing the sides of her mouth to tug into the smallest hint of a smile. Turning, she sought out the large Nietzschean.  
  
He returned to the table with a diplomatic smile. The Regent sat staring through the crowd, eyes distant.  
  
"Problem?" Dylan prompted.  
  
The Regent's gaze flicked over to him, an unreadable expression in them.  
  
"Tempted as I am to deny that, Captain, I cannot. It seems we missed one."  
  
^j^  
  
Saraann heard laughing and singing voices coming toward her. Panic clutched her heart. She ducked into a room and listened as they passed by, trying to hold in her rapid breathing.  
  
"And then I said, 'Can you turn off the water?'" piped a male voice in the hallway in time to swaggering footfalls.  
  
High-pitched female laughter followed. "You were still naked in the snow, then?" the woman asked, her voice soft and melodious.  
  
"Well, yeah. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy to rescue all those orphans while freezing myâ€""  
  
The voices faded down the hall.  
  
Saraann let her breath go free. Her throat burned as her gasping breaths deepened and slowed. Her temples pounded as oxygen flooded her brain. She blinked rapidly and took a long evaluating look around her. Her refuge was dimly lit, as though someone left in a hurry without turning the lights off all the way. She peered around. The walls were bare except for a symbolic gold emblem. A chill stabbed deep into her bones. It was his room ... the Nietzschean's. No, this wouldn't work. This wouldn't work at all. It was much too early to trust the Nietzschean. The giant had his place in the prophecy, but later, much later. She had to find another hiding place right away.  
  
She slipped into the hallway again; listening at each door for the voices that had passed by.  
  
Finally, she was satisfied that she was far from the couple. She opened another door.  
  
She gasped and fell to her knees, not noticing the sharp jab of pain when they hit the metal hall floor. It was Valia's sanctuary incarnate! It was the hideout she prayed for. She went in certain that this refuge was temporary at best. It was the chance she needed; the one chance that prophecy would be fulfilled. She had to trust the one, the Ancient One, to make the right decisions when dictating the prophecies to improve the fate of the universe. Reverently, she knelt under a tall tree with sturdy limbs. She was amazed that something so large could grow in a container inside a space ship. However, that was said to be one of the gifts of the Ancients. They could influence the life force of plants and many animals, as well as feel gravitational flux and other unseen forces, perhaps even time itself. It wasn't for a humble servant of Light to judge or comprehend. She simply followed the Way and the dictates of the Essiivv.  
  
She took the bag from around her neck gently and laid it on the floor, blanketed with a thick mauve creeper vine. The vine was fragrant, soothing, downy and dotted with tiny pink-petaled flowers. Once she had do so, she opened her precious package. Two large bright eyes blinked up at her. A smile spread across the tiny face. A cross between a gurgle and a giggle greeted her. She smiled and smoothed the thin white blond hair on the tiny head. The baby cooed and grinned at her, showing a single pearly tooth on the bottom. "Soon, Little One, soon you will discover the destiny you were born for and those who seek to kill you will pay for their sacrilege and greed. Those who think they will control you or kill you to control fate will fail. I will make sure of it ... for you, My Little Man."  
  
She picked the child up and cradled him, a soft mist of tears clouding her eyes. With a sniffle, she sat him on the creepers so that he might learn from his surroundings and handed him a bottle of fresh cow's milk that she had stolen from a market during their flight. The child watched her soberly in the way that babies do, sensing that she was about to leave him. He whimpered and waved an arm toward her.  
  
"Do not cry now, Little One. A creature will come and take you to Sanctuary. There you will have a family and a future and all the things you will need to grow strong and wise. If you come with me, the Regent will surely kill you and not just because of your mixed genetics. He's a small- minded creature and afraid, very afraid ... as he should be. But, you will be fine and you will forget me. Good bye, my Emperor." She bent and kissed him on the forehead in a gesture of utmost reverence. "Valia protect you and comfort you at her breast," she whispered, then crept silently from the room without looking back.  
  
The little boy waved his arms in the air and kicked his feet as he watched her go, but did not cry. He tugged at the plant underneath him and lay one tiny palm on the tree bark, peering up at the emerald leaves spread flat against the ceiling. After a brief exploration of his surroundings he nestled into a shallow hallow between the small bushes at the base of the tree and fell asleep cradled in the soft fragrant creeping vines.  
  
TBC in ch 5 


	5. Chapter 5

~~~*~~~~ Chapter 5 ~~~*~~~  
  
When civilizations, like flames, are doused the embers can in time spark to flame again.  
--Treatise on the rise and Fall of the Commonwealth  
  
Ixta Victrin-Jae, Royal Historian, CY 11, 445  
  
"Missed one what?" Dylan was almost afraid to hear Regent Fortnoy's answer.  
  
"One of the crafty zealots outwitted my security staff."  
  
"Are they a threat?"  
  
"Dangerous? Yes, yes! They've murdered babes whilst they slept! Most of these religious fanatics live sheltered lives, content to rub their noses in dusty tomes and piled plans. Others, well, others will jump at any excuse to die for their cause. We thought we'd gotten them all. Underestimated their intelligence ... and their gall." His scowl mutated into a silent snarl.  
  
Alarmed, Dylan stood and leaned over the Regent. "And one is on my ship?" he hissed, searching the crowd for Rommie.  
  
The Regent grasped his forearm with fingers long enough to wrap all the way around. "Rest assured, Captain Hunt, I've dispatched my finest guards to find the zealot and ... take care of the problem."  
  
"I hope you aren't offended if I send my own security after the person, too," he said. "Excuse me." He strode swiftly to the view screen and summoned Andromeda again.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr leaned against the hull of the Eureka Maru impatiently. His fingers drummed on the metal, filling the bay with a sound like running mice. Rommie stood nearby, arms crossed, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
"A trip to the surface for food and wine was a waste of fuel," Tyr stated as though the fact were obvious.  
  
She was about to answer when the door to the Maru whooshed open to reveal a smiling Beka Valentine; her blond curls pulled up at the back of her head. They bounced when she moved, giving her a deceptively innocent schoolgirl look.  
  
"Man, that place is great! Dim romantic lighting year round. Mild breezes. All the Rakean Worm wine you can drink. Cheap, cheap, cheap! They make the stuff, export it. It's a real moneymaker."  
  
Rommie frowned. "Why is it called Rakean wine if it's made on Solta?"  
  
Tyr and Beka exchanged knowing looks. Rommie might have access to an enormous database of information, but she was still new to being 'human.' Sometimes, her interpretations of the data in her ship self's archives was a bit unusual.  
  
"That's the eighth mystery of the universe there, Rommie," Beka humored her with a wide smile. "Help with this stuff before we get mobbed. I've heard how these people can go through their free food."  
  
She ducked back into the Maru with Tyr close behind. He studied the view she presented him with mild amusement. This was the first entertaining moment in Dylan's latest charade.  
  
Beka heard him purr softly, deep in his throat. She threw him a look over her shoulder. "What was that, Tyr?"  
  
His gaze whipped up from her lower extremities to meet her intense blue eyes. "I was ... admiring the dress. Blue with gold sparkles looks much better on you than me."  
  
She waggled her pale blond eyebrows. Dangerous emotions flitted past deep inside her iridescent eyes. "Rommie tried to get you in a dress?"  
  
He looked momentarily flustered. Sometimes, she came up with the most bizarre comments.  
  
Beka suppressed a laugh but couldn't keep the wide grin from her face.  
  
Rommie carried a case of Worm wine out of the Maru's cargo hold and down the ramp to the Andromeda. After watching her go, he ogled the First Officer while she wasn't looking. He just couldn't help it. The dress was too formfitting. The Captain of the Maru bent at the waist to pick up and stack some of the smaller containers of food. She piled them high. The top one began to wobble.  
  
He reached past her and steadied it, one hand on her shoulder, hip pressed against her back. "Careful," he murmured, "wasting it will mean another trip to that wretched little planet."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected physical contact. His deep voice near her ear made her shiver. For a moment her emotions reeled. She couldn't think of a response, so she just stood there, eyes wide, barely breathing.  
  
He moved back after a very long moment, pleased with himself. As a Nietzschean, his senses were so sensitive that he could hear the wild pound of her heart, smell the dizzying scent of the sudden spurt of pheromones her body gave off, almost feel the torrent of emotions in her. They'd danced around attraction for nearly two years, since they'd first come aboard the Andromeda. Technically, she wasn't good enough for him. She was human, had succumbed to a Flash addiction, and above all ... wasn't Nietzschean. For some unfathomable reason, he still found himself drawn to her. He resisted, yet caught himself staring. Occasionally, his feet would carry him back and forth outside her door. When he realized his actions, he would beret himself all the way back to his quarters for his weakness. Even if the need to procreate were paramount, inferior offspring would not suit the one man who could control all of the Prides. He was the one person in control of the remains of the founder of Nietzschean society. That fact alone gave him the right, the power to rule all of the Prides if they did not kill him first. This power meant he must have superior offspring ... as many as possible.  
  
Beka reached for another container then snatched back her hand quickly when she noticed it trembling. Damn, him! She knew he could tell what his proximity did to her. That really pissed her off. He did it on purpose just to get a rise out of her. Normally, she told herself, she wouldn't go all mushy and weak-kneed. But, being cooped up on the Andromeda with only Tyr, Dylan and Harper for viable male company ... well, Tyr and Dylan anyway, made it much easier to notice them. Dylan all but ignored her, still pining for the 300-year-old ghost of his fiancé. Now Tyr was trying to ... what? Undermine her confidence? Use her as a conquest to satisfy urges his hand didn't satisfy?  
  
Angry, she hefted the containers and whirled. She gave him a sour look as she stomped out of the Maru. He stared after her, bewildered, then picked up the remaining containers and followed with a smirk. Fire was a wonderful quality in a woman.  
  
^j^  
  
Rayna pinned Harper against the wall of his room, trailing kisses along his cheek and neck. Deftly, she removed his blue and gold sparkle shirt. He grabbed her and kissed her; amazed that she didn't run when she saw his pasty white chest. It had been ages since he'd surfed and tanned. He didn't even want to tell her about the Magog larvae still hibernating wrapped around his innards. She leaned into him, her body making promises.  
  
She pulled back suddenly and yanked her tunic off over her head, revealing a form-fitting white undergarment. Harper's eyes widened when he saw a knife strapped to either forearm, a small pulse pistol holstered over her shoulder and several other items he couldn't identify attached to her body. He was certain they were all weapons.  
  
"Wow!" he exclaimed in surprise, "You got more weapons than a Nietzschean fleet!"  
  
She chuckled deep in her throat, bending to raise her skirt to her knee. She unhooked a leg holster cradling another pulse pistol.  
  
"Sheesh, you're not gonna unhook all of those are ya? We'll be here forever." She glanced up at him with a sly grin. Her emerald eyes narrowed. "I'm never unarmed."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Rough planet or lousy job?"  
  
"Both and more. Self preservation." She piled weapons on the small table near the bed. "And I work for the Regent. I'm in the Guard." She flopped onto his bed, long legs stretched out. She plucked a stuffed teddy bear from between his two pillows and turned it over twice. "A friend?" she asked, amused.  
  
He snatched it from her and tossed it into the nearby bathroom. "A gift ... a gift from a purple pixie friend of mine."  
  
She didn't question him. Instead, she patted the pillow beside her in a manner that left little doubt.  
  
He swallowed in a throat gone dry and tight. He dove onto the bed and let her long arms envelop him.  
  
^j^  
  
"And this is Jessica. She's an Acquilian fern." Trance fingered the leaves of the draping red and black plant lovingly.  
  
"Mm, never heard of them. Lovely ... foliage."  
  
"Yeah." She smiled proudly. "I think so too."  
  
Morsay turned in place, taking in all of the plants in the Hydroponics Bay. "Only a very few of these would grow on Solta. Our light level is much too low."  
  
"That's why you're a planet of predators," Trance said. "Nearly everything in the food chain is carnivorous."  
  
He stared at her, surprise making his high forehead wrinkle.  
  
She shrugged and blushed a deep violet. "I did my homework. It just ... it seemed right somehow."  
  
He gave her a debonair grin, sidling over to her.  
  
She fluffed the Acquilian fern, her side to Morsay. He stopped close enough to her that she could hear his rapid breathing, smell the sickly sweet scent of old wine and sweat that oozed from him.  
  
He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her shoulder and pushing her firmly against the metal table holding the plants. He placed a hand on either side of her then casually caressed the leaves of the plant. "Exquisite," he murmured.  
  
"Jessica?" she whispered, looking at everything except him.  
  
"You, Little One. On my planet we have a delightful candy in your exact shade."  
  
"Oh, um, really?" she said, pushing against the arm in front of her. "You know, Leto over there is a gorgeous—"  
  
He interrupted her, "Didn't you say you had more plants to show me in your quarters?"  
  
"Ah, well. I do, but ... " Her gaze darted around the room. She bit the inside of her lip, mind racing. "No one goes in there but me, not even Rommie. It's just ... kinda like a sanctuary, you know?" She shoved against his arm hard.  
  
He gently blew on the flowers adorning her hair and held his arm firmly in place, trapping her. "I wouldn't despoil it."  
  
Alarmed, she tried to duck under his arm. He blocked her. Attraction was one thing and so was flirting, but this was entirely different. She already had her heart set on someone she knew quite well. She ducked again. His arms tightened around her convulsively.  
  
She elbowed him viciously in the ribs. He gasped and stepped back, allowing just enough room for her to slip away. His hand shot out and gripped her upper arm hard enough to bruise.  
  
Her eyes widened in fear.  
  
He yanked her back, her face close to his. "I've been more than gracious. And it isn't right to tease," he hissed low.  
  
"I wasn't ... I didn't mean ... I just thought you'd like to meet my family," she stammered.  
  
"Now it's too late," he said simply, baring pointed teeth.  
  
^j^  
  
With long easy strides, Tyr caught up to Beka. Her quick short steps made her backside sway in a way that effected Tyr more than he would ever admit. She was only human, after all. Inferior. Still ... .  
  
He purposely matched his pace to hers, staying a few steps behind, watching and enjoying. The ten boxed containers of wine he carried were as light to him as he imagined Beka to be.  
  
She forced her way through the crowd and placed her boxes of food on the end of the table. Glancing over her shoulder, she almost grinned when she saw the crowd ignore him. He had to weave through the aliens when she was certain he was used to everyone stepping aside for him. She felt her cheeks burn when she noticed his gaze was firmly fixed on her backside.  
  
Biting back a smile, she worked with quick efficiency to refill the empty food trays on the table.  
  
He was beside her a moment later matching her movements. She couldn't resist stealing a glance at the view he presented when he bent to set the boxes of wine on the floor behind the table. One corner of her mouth turned up. His form-fitting leather pants were definitely nice.  
  
He stood quickly and peered at her. She flushed the picture of wide-eyed innocence. He blinked in confusion. They both looked away quickly. She dropped a pastry and fumbled with the next two. As he replaced empty wine containers with full ones, he allowed himself a small smile.  
  
^j^  
  
Rayna stretched her arms over her head with contented cat-like grace. Just then, the communicator on the back of her hand beeped. She tapped it and raised it to her ear. After a moment, she peered at it then sighed deeply.  
  
"What's up, Babe? Curfew?"  
  
She sat up on the side of the bed. "Nothing important."  
  
"Look I hate to break the mood, y'know, but I gotta make ceecee before my eyeballs float away." He smiled and dashed to the nearby bathroom in only his short white socks. He paused at the door. "The encore starts in a minute, Sweet Cakes. Don't bail on me."  
  
"How could I?" she asked in a voice as smooth as honey.  
  
His mouth dropped open and he ducked inside, shutting the door.  
  
She stood, scooped up her clothing and dressed with lightning quick efficiency. She donned her weapons as she strode to the bathroom door. Pulling a mini pulse pistol equipped with a silencer, she stopped and fired at the lock. It sparked in silent protest. She sniffed at the acrid scent of burnt wiring, waving it aside and returned her pistol to its holster.  
  
"Rayna?" he called.  
  
She gave the bathroom door a smirk, with a fluid movement, turned on her heel, and was striding through the corridor before he realized he was trapped. She had a mission to accomplish.  
  
^j^  
  
Something snapped inside Trance at the surety of Morsay's tone. Her temper snapped. Her tail whipped up and slapped him upside the head, knocking him to the floor. How dare he?  
  
"No means no," she snapped, then turned and bolted into the hallway desperate to get to her quarters.  
  
A few moments later Trance's heart leapt. Pounding footsteps echoed in the corridor behind her. She let out a little squeak when she realized he was chasing her. Slipping into a cross-corridor, she ran into the shadows and pressed her back to the cold metal of the wall.  
  
The footsteps slowed at the intersection. In the distance, she heard partygoers shriek and the sound of drunken laughter. She winced and frantically searched the corridor for a hiding place. This one had few rooms, all of them much further down. The corridor, like the rest of the ship, was bathed in shadows in deference to their alien guests. It crossed her mind to call out to Rommie, have her activate her internal defenses and knock Morsay unconscious. She wrung her hands. Calling on the ship, however, might endanger negotiations, put the peace treaty in jeopardy. She couldn't do that. It would break Dylan's heart and interfere with the one perfect future. He had to get his fifty worlds.  
  
"Trance? My little violet vixen, I can almost smell you," the stalker taunted, his voice slurring a little.  
  
She bit her lower lip, gaze darting into the shadows once more. Glancing up she saw a single narrow beam crossing near the ceiling. It was her only hope.  
  
TBC in ch 6 


	6. Chapter 6

~~**~~ Chapter 6 ~~**~~  
  
The rules of the old Systems Commonwealth must be revised to fit the new universe. A new code will be formed.  
--Emperor Victous Leone to Captain Dylan Hunt as documented in the History of the New Imperial Commonwealth.  
  
Tyr looked up from the food platters, amazement on his face. The band played a song that sounded distinctly like a Nietzschean mating dance. All dances were essentially foreplay to Nietzscheans, but this one was specific to that purpose. He didn't let it bother him. His gaze came to rest on Beka who stared at him quizzically.  
  
"Been sniffing those wine fumes, Tyr?" she asked.  
  
"On the contrary ... dance with me."  
  
Shock washed over her face. She blinked rapidly and cocked her head. "What? You? Dance?"  
  
"I do many things that would surprise you."  
  
She shook her head fervently, raising her hands before her in self-defense. "No, no. I don't dance. You couldn't pay me enough—" She forgot what she was saying as he leapt the table and grabbed her arm, dragging her onto the crowded dance floor. "Uh, wait, Tyr, I can't—" He whirled her so quickly that her words were stripped away. She clung to him, digging long nails into his arms so that she wouldn't fall and gasped for breath in starving lungs. He pulled her close and held her firmly, yet gently. Their hips and thighs moved as one to the beat. His milk chocolate eyes stared down into hers; a fire lit deep inside them. All she could do was stare up at him, their gazes locked. She allowed him to move her through the deep and pounding beat, the haunting melody stirring up primal emotions inside her.  
  
The music ground to a halt suddenly leaving her feeling bereft. He released her reluctantly, pulling back slowly. When he dropped her hand, it was slick with sweat. She swayed slightly, catching her breath. He glanced around then at the floor, abruptly shy.  
  
"I am ... sorry," he said as if it took all of his will to speak the words. She shrugged, speechless and watched him stride toward the door. Dylan stopped him before he could leave, whispering urgently.  
  
^j^  
  
Rayna slipped through the shadows like sea fog. The message from Luter Valnos, the Regent's Second and security chief, was very specific: find the woman and the child and eliminate them. It included a small vid-picture of her, Saraann Elise, that was visible only to the heightened eyesight of a Soltan native or a Nietzschean. Harper had been clueless.  
  
Regret shot through her. He was a sweet young man, a worthy lover. There was fire, anger and passion buried within his boyish looks. She would miss him.  
  
She took a scanner from the pocket of her tunic, running it over the halls. The ship was enormous. The scanner had a long range. Still, it would take time to find the fugitive. In that time there was no telling what damage she could do. At a four corners, she paused, thinking logically. She tried to get into the mindset of the zealot, to think as she thought, plan as she planned. Rayna could work backwards. The plan was obviously to smuggle the illegal child out of the solar system. But, would the zealot go with him? If not, she would probably not return to the party. Despite the miserable failure of the security net this time, she knew the Regent's Guard had vid- pics of nearly all of the dissidents and foreigners in the entire system. No, she was smarter than that to have come this far. She knew her time was limited. So, where would she go? Rayna frowned thoughtfully. To the hanger deck, to hide onboard the ship returning to Solta. She would try to return to the surface and reunite with any other zealots that escaped execution.  
  
As she jogged toward the hanger deck and the Regent's ship, she couldn't help but wonder why someone would endanger themselves so. All for a child, a tiny infant declared a danger to the state because he carried a genetic anomaly, an alien disease that was contagious and deadly, or so the Regent's office said. Rayna often wondered if it were true. If so many of the populace carried such a disease, why was no treatment in the works? No, she believed it was a ruse, a cover story. Many other male children who also supposedly carried this anomaly had already been eliminated, under orders from the Regent. It was conveniently blamed on the zealots. The public was fearful of them anyway. Rayna shut out the cries of the children she had slaughtered herself. It was her duty ... for the stability of Solta.  
  
She stopped in the open door to the hanger bay, dropped to a crouch and peered inside. It seemed empty. She pulled out her scanner. There were three life signs in the bay: the pilot, copilot inside the ship, and one other, outside. Rayna smiled. Her duty would be a pleasure.  
  
^j^  
  
Morsay stepped around the corner, calling Trance's name softly. The corridor was darkened, like the majority of the ship. The vital centers of operation were all secured, as were the inhabited rooms, but the corridors were open to roam freely. He staggered as he came around the corner, catching his balance with one hand on the wall. He stopped, staring into the shadows, searching.  
  
Trance held her breath, willing her heart to stop racing. She peeked at him through slitted eyes. He stood almost directly under her, close enough for her to smell the wine and Yanisian spice pastries on his breath. Her arms and legs trembled as she strained to hold herself flat against the ceiling, the crossbeam against her back. She had wrapped her tail around it and pulled herself up, dug her heels and fingertips into the tiny space above the beam. Her fingers were stiff, arms trembling with exertion.  
  
He turned slowly, surveying every nook and cranny. He sniffed, trying to catch her scent with his powerful nose, then frowned.  
  
She shivered. She could envision divergent futures and all of those in which he found her were horrific. She would do better on the Magog Worldship, at least there she knew her enemy and what he would do. She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for calm. A sense of peace washed over her and she knew what to do. Her shivering ceased. She concentrated. She had many small psychic gifts she had never divulged. A thin film of sweat broke out on her forehead. This wasn't one of her easy gifts. She concentrated harder.  
  
"Trance?" he called.  
  
Suddenly, a long way down the corridor, a tiny silver coin appeared out of the empty air near the ceiling and fell to the floor with a loud PING!  
  
He jumped, startled. Regaining his composure,he hurried toward the sound.  
  
When he was several yards away, Trance lowered herself silently to the floor using her tail. Shaking her numb arms, she scampered away around the corner and sprinted for her room.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr scowled after Dylan briefed him. He could feel this diplomatic mission going bad. The Vedren Captain was so blinded by his desire to rebuild the former glory of his Commonwealth that he often overlooked the little things that could add up to disaster. Tyr loved to remind the other man of his shortcomings.  
  
But, damn the man, he'd rather trust in blind faith and optimism than in what his eyes showed him.  
  
"There will be no Commonwealth without self-preservation," the former mercenary cursed to himself. Self-preservation was the current selling point for the new alliance. Dylan tried desperately to woo new systems into a united front against the common Magog enemy. Most of the sheep were still too wary to join up. He suspected they'd swarm to Dylan like moths to a flame after the Magog reached the local area and began their feeding frenzy.  
  
Tyr strode purposely through the corridor, chain mail top glittering in the ambient light, force lance slung low on one hip. He made an imposing figure and the partygoers in the corridors all but jumped out of his way. He scanned their faces, searching easily through the dark for anyone that seemed out of place.  
  
It occurred to him that a terrorist such as the Regent described would plant their devices and hide on the Soltan ship to ensure their escape. Terrorists of this type were seldom martyrs. They craved the fear they gave birth to and had to witness it.  
  
He increased his pace toward the hanger bay, eager for even a mediocre fight.  
  
^j^  
  
Trance squeezed her eyes shut, certain the wild pounding of her heart could be heard on the other side of her door. "Please," she whispered and opened her eyes.  
  
Her gaze fell on her makeshift bathtub full to the brim with homemade bubbles. The delicate scent of soap mingled with the flora in her room and with something else, a scent she couldn't identify. Puzzled, she peered around her quarters searching for anything out of place. Movement behind the tub, beyond the lip, caught her attention. She frowned. A tiny hand snaked over the edge of the tub and dipped into the bubbles, splashing quietly. Another little hand grasped the lip and a small head popped into view from behind the tub. Tow-headed and pink-cheeked, the chubby face turned toward her.  
  
Her brows raised in surprise. Impossibly large hazel eyes blinked at her. She smiled. The baby smiled back and added a delighted gurgle.  
  
Trance lifted the baby gently, estimating his age to be about 10 months. He would be weaned; crawling or walking, possibly able to say a word or two. She cradled him in her arms. "So, there you are," she whispered. "I've been waiting. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. I didn't know it was time already."  
  
The baby stared into her eyes with an intelligent gaze. His hazel eyes and pink cheeks were a sign of his mixed heritage. A Soltan baby would have nearly translucent skin, showing the blue veins beneath. If not for his overly large eyes, ha could pass for human. One tiny six-fingered hand swatted at her chin.  
  
She smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "Thank you for forgiving me," she told him and swayed gently to and fro. He babbled and rested his head in the hollow between her collarbone and neck, sucking his thumb noisily. She began to croon the same soft lullaby that her mother had sung to her, a hypnotic tune of mauve leaves changing to gold and small furry creatures frolicking in the cool breeze.  
  
The boy--and she knew instinctively that he was a boy--smiled up at her, dimples on both sides of his upper lip. She returned his smile, her body awash in his pure joy. She had never divulged her transient powers of empathy. It was no one's business. Her empathy was strongest with innocents – animals, young creatures and plants. She could feel what they felt without trying. She closed her eyes briefly and shivered with happiness, sharing his contentment.  
  
After finishing the song, she caressed the smattering of white-blond hair on his head, warm and soft. Pressing her nose to his head, she inhaled deeply. The heady aroma unique to baby skin calmed her instantly. She felt a brief stab of longing, and shook her head sharply to force it away. This wasn't the time or the place for her to have a child, though she knew who she'd like the father to be. There was too much work to be done, too much danger ahead. Later, when peace returned to the triple galaxies, then she could spend the time wooing the man she had already chosen. She carried him to her dresser and removed a tiny outfit including diaper that she had kept years in anticipation of this moment, stripped him of his Soltan clothes, and dressed him. His mixed heritage became even more evident. He almost looked human, with pale pink skin, rosy cheeks and hazel green eyes. She knew little of his heritage. It didn't matter. What mattered was his future. He was a crux in time, a focal point, and she had been waiting for him. Years before, she had planted the seeds of myth that resulted in his birth, his somehow being here in the right place at the right time. Funny how it always seemed to work out.  
  
"Time to start again," she said, hugged him close then held him away so she could look him in the eyes. "Oh, you lucky boy! You're going to have such an interesting life!"  
  
She carried him back to the tree that dominated her quarters and laid her open palm on its trunk, peering up into the leaves. She closed her eyes. Suddenly, an opening appeared in the trunk revealing a small chamber.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered to the tree. She grinned at the baby as she placed him inside tenderly. "My friend will protect you while I get this all sorted out. Take a nap if you like or listen to the pincars blossoms sing. It'll all be okay." She smoothed his hair and backed away. He flailed both chubby arms simultaneously and gurgled, obviously accepting the plan. With a nearly imperceptible whoosh, the opening closed, except for two small air holes.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Trance headed for the door to the corridor. She had work to do. She couldn't let any of her crewmates know what was really happening, but they all had a role to play. If she told them they would figure out her true nature and that would jeopardize her plans ... and the future. As Harper liked to say, "I could tell ya but then I'd have to kill ya." She would have to nudge them all in the proper direction unobtrusively. She gave the tree a long backward glance before turning down the light and leaving the room.  
  
^j^  
  
Rayna crept silently through the enormous hanger bay, lit by only four bulbs. She kept to the deep shadows by the walls. It wasn't difficult to locate her quarry. The woman was an amateur. The security officer paused and ducked down behind a metal pylon.  
  
Yes, the zealot was there, hunched in the darkness fifteen feet from one of the entry portals to the ship.  
  
She almost sighed. She'd been looking forward to a good fight. This would be too easy. The zealot, the woman, was short and obviously not fully Soltan if she were Soltan at all. Spies from other systems abounded, though mimicking the native physiology made it difficult to succeed in espionage. She gritted her teeth then spit on the floor beside her boots. She made a quick symbolic gesture in the air to ward off the stench of those of mixed blood. Damn them diluting the race! Quick as her death would be, the zealot would still despoil her purity. Rayna would need a bath after.  
  
With feline grace she stalked from shadow to shadow, slowly approaching her prey. The zealot's gaze darted fearfully around the cavernous hanger bay, her eyesight weakened by her offworld blood. She seemed to sense the approaching specter of death.  
  
Rayna paused again, close enough to smell the salty sweet sweat of fear on her prey.  
  
Quick as lightening, she pounced.  
  
^j^  
  
Dylan felt reassured when Tyr nodded in agreement and left to search for the bomb and the terrorist. He turned back to the Regent.  
  
"Sorry to cut the party short, Regent Fortnoy but you really will be safer on your own ship. I assure you my people will locate the bomb and get rid of it."  
  
The older man's dark eyes widened in surprise. "Really, Captain, it isn't necessary for me to leave. My people can assist you in a room by room search and we'll make short work of this."  
  
One corner of Dylan's mouth twitched. "Still, I would feel better as I am responsible for your safety while on my ship. And my people are very capable—"  
  
"As are mine," the Regent stressed the word mine. "I am confident they will find the device before any harm can come to me ... or to you."  
  
Beka, standing quietly behind Dylan, tapped him on the arm.  
  
"One moment please," he told Fortnoy, quickly turning away from his cadaverous stare. He stepped back to lean close to his first officer.  
  
"I smell something fishy," she whispered in his ear.  
  
He met her gaze quickly in agreement before stepping back to the aliens. "Sir, I'm sure your people are excellent. Maybe we can reach a compromise, say, two of your security personnel can remain aboard and search with us."  
  
"Three."  
  
"Deal. Three. The rest need to return to your ship and your capital city. We'll inform you when this is resolved."  
  
The Regent pursed his lips and peered at the shorter man down his hawk-like nose. After a long moment, he nodded sharply. "I tire anyway. The party is over," he announced to the revelers. "We will return to Vernius. My wife awaits in the Castle." He turned on his heel, his long tunic swinging out behind him. Like a flock of birds, the revelers left the room in a flurry of motion and color.  
  
Dylan and Beka fell in step behind them. Over his shoulder, he called out to Rommie, "Run a scan of the entire ship. Find that bomb."  
  
^j^  
  
A tiny mouse squeak escaped Saraann's lips as, at the last moment, she saw a form spring from the darkness like the ancient bogeyman. In that split second, she recognized Rayna Anis-Ni, one of the Regent's bodyguards. Years of training in the Essiivv ways made her raise her hands and one foot defensively without thinking. She knew she was no match for the other woman's larger body and sinewy strength.  
  
Rayna landed on her outstretched foot, grunting in surprise. Saraann fell back. Her head hit the ship with a loud CLANG. She grabbed handfuls of the security officer's clothing and used the larger woman's momentum to toss her sideways. Saraann leapt to her feet, pulling a knife from her belt.  
  
Rayna landed on her feet gracefully in a defensive crouch. She chuckled when she saw the knife. A wide, feral smile split her face. Her large green eyes darkened, glittering in the dim light.  
  
A chill spread over Saraann. She wasn't Soltan by nature, only disguised as a one. She often passed as half-Soltan. Her eyesight was unequal to a fight in the half-light. Her mission was done. She had no more purpose. Abruptly, she flipped the knife so that the tip pointed at her own stomach.  
  
Rayna's eyes widened. As the zealot plunged the knife inward, Rayna saw her coveted promotion vanish before her eyes. She dove forward. With a fluid movement, she grasped the first holding the knife and whirled the lighter woman around so that her back pressed to Rayna's stomach.  
  
"Oh no, you won't cheat me," Rayna spat the words out through gritted teeth.  
  
"Alive, you'll get me a long overdue promotion."  
  
Saraann winced as the other woman squeezed her fingers. Joints popped and pain shot up her arms. The knife fell and clattered on the metal floor.  
  
"Valia and Jemi give me strength," Saraann whispered. "I'll not tell!"  
  
The bodyguard bent her forward and smacked Saraann's head against the side of the ship. Sparkles circled before her vision. She swayed dizzily.  
  
"Your pagan Saints won't protect you," Rayna growled. "They're long dead and buried. Now, where is the boy?"  
  
"No!" Saraann screamed. She twisted her body. Using the hand pinned behind her, against the larger woman, she grabbed soft flesh with her sharp nails and squeezed with all her strength.  
  
Rayna wailed with pain and released her.  
  
Saraann flung out her arm and tossed her opponent into the shadows before diving for the knife.  
  
Rayna tackled her from behind. They fell to the floor. Saraann twisted onto her back and punched her attacker in the face. The larger woman spit out blood and hit her. Dazed, Saraann felt herself pinned, wrists held by one long fingered hand, legs pinned by the larger woman's weight.  
  
"Kill me," Saraann said.  
  
"In time."  
  
"I won't tell you."  
  
"You will," Rayna said in a soft, almost loving tone, then hit her again and again.  
  
Mentally, Saraann began to recite the mantras she had learned for inner peace and detachment. Repeating them over and over gave her the power to separate herself from the world, from the beating as it progressed. She retreated deep into her mind and didn't feel anything, though still aware of what was happening.  
  
Rayna stared into her distant, serene eyes and sat back with a cry of frustration. The security officer growled, shoving stringy grayish hair back off her forehead.  
  
Saraann watched realization come into the larger woman's eyes. She was not going to learn the location of the child. Saraann was beyond her.  
  
With a snarl of sheer frustration, Rayna grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. Dully, she heard the back of her head thumping against the floor.  
  
^j^  
  
Rev Bem peered with curiosity at Trance as she gave him a tentative grin. Her normally lavender skin was a pasty lilac, like violet chalk spread too thin on a white board. He closed the historical summary of Drexal V that lay in his lap and set it reverently on the floor beside his cushioned seat.  
  
"You are troubled," he stated.  
  
She shrugged and hurried over, tossing nervous glances at the closed door. "Well ... yeah, kinda."  
  
"Sit." He motioned toward a cushion on the floor near the altar.  
  
She sat quickly, pulling her knees up to her chest, a feat he wondered at given her skintight clothing. Ah, he would never completely understand humanoid races, particularly those as unique as Trance's.  
  
"I need your help because I have this problem," she said, the words tumbling over each other in their haste. "I didn't know exactly what to do and I, well, priests are supposed to help people no matter what, right?" She bit her lower lip and stared at him with the wide-eyed gaze of a frightened child. He peered into her eyes and saw something twitch deep inside them, something knowing and wise that flitted away and was gone as fast as he recognized it. He felt a surge of protectiveness for her. She often came across as helpless, though he suspected otherwise. Still, she was buffeted by Evil just as he was.  
  
"Yes, Trance," he said and waited for her to continue.  
  
"Have you ever been in a situation where you know what the right thing to do is but know that doing it might not be the right thing?"  
  
Rev Bem blinked slowly, marveling at her ability to convolute sentences. "Will doing the right thing cause physical harm to others?"  
  
"No. But not doing it might."  
  
"Then you must do it by any means."  
  
A broad smile brightened her face and quickly faded. "Good. But, that's just it. I don't know what to do."  
  
He crossed his lumpy hands in front of him in a gesture of patience, threading the long curving claws on his fingers together. "Tell me the problem. Perhaps, the Most High will inspire me with a solution."  
  
Trance sighed and began her explanation; confident she could get him to help her.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr entered the hanger bay and instantly knew something was wrong. He heard a soft thump thump that was unmistakable to a warrior. He dropped to a crouch and assessed the area around the ship. He sniffed, blood, sweat, adrenaline filled the air. The noises came from his right. Like a lion, he stalked through the shadows. He paused when he was in sight of the two women; one obviously Soltan, beating the limp form of a woman who didn't smell at all Soltan to him. He scowled in disgust. The Soltan had lost control. Beating another to death purely to satiate anger was a waste of future potential.  
  
He slunk through the shadows until he crouched near them. Satisfied that both were unarmed, he stood, drawing himself up to his full height, force lance extended.  
  
"Cease this useless endeavor," he bellowed.  
  
The woman on top started and leapt up into a half-crouch.  
  
He recognized her. She was the woman who flirted with Harper. He sniffed again and gave an indignant grimace. She reeked of the small engineer. The scents of old Sparky Cola and sweat dripped from her skin. He glared at her, waiting for her first move.  
  
Exertion made her chest heave. Her gaze raked over him, assessing his strengths and weaknesses.  
  
The huge Nietzschean saw the decision in her eyes. A half-second later, she produced a gun and aimed at him. Quick as a viper, he snatched it from her fingers and pistol-whipped her.  
  
Her green eyes widened in surprise and she slumped to the floor unconscious.  
  
"What a waste of time," he muttered. He patted her down, confiscating all of her weapons and impressed by their number. Reaching over, he tugged the black headband from the victim's hair and bound the attacker tightly enough to slow her circulation. Even if she did unbind herself, both of her hands would be asleep, slowing her reaction time.  
  
He squatted beside the victim, a small woman by both Soltan and Nietzschean standards. Her hair and skin smelled to him of dyes. Her sweat smelled unfamiliar. She was neither a Soltan native nor a hybrid as she had disguised herself to be. He studied her in an attempt to understand her motives. Finding no answers and recognizing her trance state, he leaned over her face into her line of sight.  
  
"Wake now. I have disabled the Soltan."  
  
He saw life flicker deep inside her hazel eyes. She blinked rapidly. He sat back on his haunches.  
  
She groaned as the agony of her injuries rushed in on her.  
  
"You are dying. Answer my questions," he demanded.  
  
Her pain-glazed eyes turned to him.  
  
"That fool you call Regent names you Zealot. He may be correct. He says you have planted explosives on board. However, you do not smell of explosives nor are you a Soltan. What was your mission? Your REAL mission."  
  
Her tongue darted out and wet quivering, bloodstained lips. "Destiny," she whispered.  
  
He regarded her for a long moment. "Mine or yours?"  
  
One corner of her mouth twitched in a ghost of a grin. "You ... protector ... peace." Her voice faded on the last word.  
  
He could see her growing weak, hear her pulse slowing. He leaned close.  
  
"Explain, Woman. You have little time."  
  
"The Emperor." She gasped in pain and her breath wheezed, strangled in her throat by approaching death.  
  
He sat back quickly. "Nonsense! We haven't had an Emperor since the fall of the Commonwealth. There is nothing left to rule."  
  
She gave him an enigmatic smile. Realization dawned in his milk chocolate eyes.  
  
"You are certain?" he said.  
  
Laboriously, she nodded. A grimace creased her face as she struggled to speak.  
  
"Essiivv."  
  
Essiivv? He had heard rumors of them. They were supposed to be a cult who divined the future from the past. Superstitious nonsense and rumors devised to earn a profit from the fears of the ignorant. It was said they could predict order in chaos. It was said they were given a map of the future by higher beings. No one had ever seen an Essiivv. They had become part of the mythos they declared truth before the old Commonwealth gasped its final breath. Perhaps, there was truth to the myth after all.  
  
He watched the woman's eyes close, listened to her breathing slow. He should show her mercy. End her suffering. She had told him her mission, even told him what she had secreted on board. If she were truly Essiivv then her destiny was fulfilled. She must die a martyr. To let her persecutors capture her would be to tempt fate and risk the future; if she had indeed hidden the future Emperor of the known universe on the Andromeda Ascendant. He bent close to her and whispered in her ear, "You did well. Rest and I will take care of things."  
  
Saraann smiled and a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. "I know," she murmured, her voice faint and distant.  
  
He did what he had to. After all, even if she were wrong, a deathbed wish was to be heeded. He had his honor. Destiny was at hand.  
  
^j^  
  
"I've run full scans, both internal and external. There are no explosive or unrecognizable devises onboard."  
  
"I knew it!" Beka stalked around Command. She stopped suddenly, hands on the railing the encircled the pilot's seat. "I knew that weasely Regent was hiding something. His eyes were too shifty. So ... what's he really looking for, Andromeda? What's his game? Where's the angle?"  
  
"I overrode all privacy requests to scan every room," Andromeda told her from the viewscreen. "There are no devices only Soltans."  
  
Beka scowled. "He must want something, not necessarily something brought onboard, maybe something we already had." She plopped into the pilot's seat, tugging her dress to cover her lap. "Just keep an eye on all of them. They're like mice – into everything. Use your internal defenses if you have to. Keep them out of sensitive areas unless Dylan is with them."  
  
"My avatar is accompanying them at the moment."  
  
"Good." Beka settled back into the seat and called up navigational charts for the system and surrounding areas. She had a bad feeling about this.  
  
^j^  
  
"Rayna?" Harper called, his voice hoarse from too much shouting. "I'm serious. This isn't funny anymore. Let me out, it's your last chance." He listened, forehead pressed against the hard door.  
  
The deafening silence told him it was hopeless. She was gone and he was the butt of the joke again, on top of the crap the Magog left in his guts. This scenario was getting tiresome. Seamus Harper, cosmic joke. Universal kicking boy. Maybe he should become a monk. Naw, who was he kidding? He loved women too much, loved everything about them: their smells, the gentle sway of their hips as they walked, even the incomprehensible way their minds worked.  
  
He sighed deeply, humiliated. He had tried to jimmy the door for an interminable time. It didn't work. He couldn't get past the defenses he'd installed to keep his crewmates from playing jokes on him. In the shower, he always had the disturbing sensation that someone was about to open the door and throw icy water on him, or snap his picture to post where everyone could see it. He could almost hear Trance, Rommie and Beka giggling at him.  
  
With Rayna gone, he would have to call Rommie. His face flushed at the thought of facing the beautiful avatar wearing only his socks. The prospect of her sharing the story made tears sting the insides of his lids. He could only hope she'd show him mercy and not announce his predicament to the entire crew. Anger began to churn his stomach into fire. He could try to make her laugh. He always tried humor with women first. If that didn't work, he tried to impress them with tales of his prowess, engineering skills or used outright lies. Normally, some Adonis or Herculean hunk would walk by right on cue and steal the moment, leaving him alone and frustrated. Beauty always won out. True, this time he'd actually won one round, but being used was worse than being ignored. He took a deep breath to combat the depression pulsing inside him.  
  
"Andromeda," he called pensively.  
  
"Yes, Harper?" came the ship's voice through the overhead speakers.  
  
"Please send Rommie to my quarters."  
  
The air behind him sparkled and the Andromeda's holographic self-image appeared. She frowned as she took in his natural state. "I don't have time for your romantic overtures, Harper," she said.  
  
Startled, he whirled around, covering himself with his hands. "What? No! I'm locked in."  
  
She elegantly arched one brow.  
  
"Really," he whined.  
  
"The inimitable genius engineer can't open a door?"  
  
"I'm off my game."  
  
"Obviously," she quipped and her image vanished.  
  
He frowned. "At least hurry before Beka or Tyr find me," he muttered.  
  
After what seemed an eternity he heard the door to his quarters open. He jumped up from his brooding spot on the floor and ran to the door. "Rommie? Rom-doll, in here."  
  
He heard her stop outside the door. "Harper, you can't open this?"  
  
"I don't exactly have my tools on me like I'm sure Andromeda told you," he said quietly.  
  
"All she said was you were locked in the lavatory. This had better not be another ploy to get me alone. I was escorting the Soltan guards on a bomb search."  
  
"Bomb? Yeah, just open the door."  
  
She placed one hand on the door. It popped open.  
  
"Don't look," he said as he came out.  
  
She frowned. "Wh—" She looked. Her chocolate colored eyes widened. She turned away. "Ah."  
  
"Thanks for lettin' me out," he said quietly, trying to gauge her reaction. "Look I didn't do this for you, 'kay? I was just ... well ... I ... look, don't tell anyone, okay?" He pulled on his trousers and zipped them.  
  
She peered at him over her shoulder. He couldn't meet her eyes. He looked pitiful and desperate. Her expression softened. "I won't tell, Harper."  
  
He gave her a lopsided smile.  
  
"Now," she ordered, "get dressed and help me escort the bomb detail. They're waiting outside the door. We need to watch them closely."  
  
He nodded, dropping onto the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes. "Bomb, huh?" his voice cracked. "I thought you were kidding."  
  
"No. However, there is speculation that the Regent was lying. Please, hurry so that they don't finish the search without us. The four of us have already scoured more than a quarter of my interior."  
  
^j^  
  
Dylan matched the Regent's quick steps on the verge of a jog. The Regent's longer stride made it difficult for his human companion to keep up. As he walked, the Regent's neck stuck out so that his head proceeded his body, bobbing up and down. His large nose guided the way like a pointy rudder.  
  
They approached the Soltan ship, now stuffed with partygoers and waiting for their leader to depart.  
  
"Captain Hunt."  
  
Dylan sought out the soft voice that beckoned him. He found Tyr in the deep shadows near the ship. The Regent saw him turn and followed him over, his Second trailing behind.  
  
Dylan stopped short. Tyr sat on his haunches beside the still form of a woman. Her face was battered and bloodied, eyes closed.  
  
"You caught her!" The Second crowed with childish glee, peeking from behind the Regent. "Well done!"  
  
"Is she alive?" The Regent frowned, distraught.  
  
The Nietzschean stared at him for a long moment, his features still and unrevealing. "Quite," he said. "Thanks to your security guard." He motioned to Rayna, twitching as she slowly regained consciousness.  
  
The Second's gasp was audible, echoing from the ship's black metal hull. His expression was so aghast, so exaggerated, that Dylan wondered if the man had a mental problem.  
  
"You've killed her! You've laid hands on a member of the sacred Guard! My lord, the Nietzscheans are infamous for—"  
  
The Regent cut him off with the wave of two fingers and a glare. "Don't tell me history," he snapped, his mercurial gaze locked on Rayna. She was one of his operatives, though not a particularly skilled one. He glanced at the dead woman. He didn't recognize her ... the face of his enemy. He had expected her to look different, to be distinguishable. None of the zealots had been unique. That's what made them so dangerous. "Forgive his blabbering," he told Dylan shooting dagger-like looks at the smaller man. "Valnos, have Rayna taken to my personal physician and take the zealot too."  
  
The Second nodded several times, bowed and scurried off with rapid mincing steps.  
  
The Regent's eyes narrowed as he skewered Tyr with a look. "Did she have a dying request?" His voice sounded casual.  
  
Tyr peered up at him through half-closed lids, the epitome of calm. "No."  
  
The Regent turned to Dylan, dismissing Tyr and Saraann. "Now there is no need for my people to leave. The device will not go off without its operator. I'll have more of my guard disembark and aid us. The others may return to the banquet." He started to call out to his crew.  
  
Dylan threw up his hands; unable to believe the man wanted to continue the party. "Wait, wait. Sir, you don't know that. Many bombs just have timers. I'm going to have to insist you leave."  
  
"Insist?" he stormed indignantly, puffing out his chest, eyes blazing. "No one insists with the Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. God Himself gave my line this position! I go where I please. I DO what ... I ... please."  
  
Dylan raised his hands defensively. "For your own safety and the future of your rule. I don't want to cause dissension, but if you're killed who will become Regent? Didn't you say your son is still unborn?"  
  
The Regent's posture deflated. "Still months away, yes." His face turned toward the floor, he glared up at Dylan through transparent lashes. "I will go." He smiled through gritted teeth and shook Dylan's extended hand, then turned on his heel and stalked into his ship.  
  
A few moments later, two men in the silver body suits of the ship's crew scurried over and removed the two women wordlessly, tossing them easily over their shoulders.  
  
Dylan watched after them soberly. Tyr stepped up beside him.  
  
"He's lying," came the Nietzschean's brandy-smooth murmur.  
  
Dylan smiled humorlessly, eyes hard. "I know." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw emotions play subtly across the Nietzschean's face: surprise and fleeting respect. Tyr's respect was always fleeting. Dylan would never meet his standards. It was impossible. He wasn't Nietzschean. In unison, they strode out of the hanger bay, through the air lock into the semi-dark corridor. Behind them the Soltan ship's engines sang a rough and protesting tune as it fired up and retreated through space and beyond the dense clouds veiling its homeworld.  
  
"Spit it out, Tyr. You have something to say."  
  
The other man chose his words carefully, as Dylan expected he would. "There is no bomb."  
  
Dylan stopped abruptly, facing the slightly larger man. "I suspected as much. What do you know?"  
  
Tyr shifted uncomfortably. "The woman, she was Essiivv. And yes, she was a zealot, prone to play on superstitious rhetoric."  
  
"But you believe her or else you wouldn't bring it up."  
  
"There are legends, myths. The Essiivv are said to interpret mythology to shape the future. They not only purport myths they make them happen. This one, this prophecy she told me of ... may not be real."  
  
"But it might."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And it effects us all?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Right now I don't care about myths or prophecies, I want to know what she left on my ship and if you know, you need to tell me."  
  
"We'll know when we find it. But for certain it does not belong with them," Tyr said jabbing a finger in the direction of the hanger bay.  
  
Dylan massaged temples that blossomed in pain. "Tyr—"  
  
Trance and Rev Bem jogged around a corner and stopped near them, gasp to catch their breath.  
  
"Dylan," she managed to wheeze.  
  
"Trance, we're really busy," Dylan stated. "I need to join Rommie in the search and-"  
  
"No, you don't," she said.  
  
Dylan put his hands on his hips.  
  
"I found it ... him ... it," Trance stammered. "Oh, please, don't give him back. You just can't. They'll kill him. I'm sure of it."  
  
"I agree," Tyr said.  
  
"As do I," Rev Bem added.  
  
Confused, Dylan massaged his temples. "Fine. Now what, exactly, did you find, Trance?"  
  
Trance glanced at Rev Bem who nodded encouragement. "Come to my room. See for yourself."  
  
^j^  
  
One of the guards, Jonay Vix, stopped Harper in the hallway, asking questions. Harper sighed. The room by room search was dull. They'd gone through half the ship with no trace of a bomb.  
  
Inside the room one of the Soltans, a round-faced man with a blocky nose called Rommie over to look inside a cabinet. "Come, miss, is this normal?" he asked, pointing inside.  
  
"Let me see, Cural," she said and crossed over to him. She knelt to peer into the dark space. Suddenly, Cural pressed a device against her neck. Her body spasmed, sending off a shower of sparks. Her eyes widened and stayed that way as she stiffened and collapsed. The two Soltans exchanged glances then pulled her behind the couch and dropped her limp body.  
  
One hid beside the door, flattened against the wall, as Cural motioned his friend in the corridor to bring Harper in. The man outside smiled and extended a hand, allowing Harper to go first.  
  
The engineer explained to Jonay, "And the power ratio is ten to one. It's really amazing if I do say so my—"  
  
The Soltan behind the door hit Harper in the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. They quickly carried him over to the couch and dropped him unceremoniously on top of Rommie.  
  
They pulled out pulse pistols and checked the power levels.  
  
"Mereth, you go to the upper levels. Jonay take the rest of this floor. I will try to access engineering and some of the less traveled areas," said Cural, his round face beaming with purpose. "Don't let anyone stand in your way. Use your scanners. If you find the child do not hesitate. Kill him for the preservation of our future. Death to the usurper."  
  
The other men murmured, "Death to the usurper." All three slipped from the room and parted ways, intent on their missions.  
  
TBC in ch 7. 


	7. Chapter 7

~~*~~ Chapter 7 ~~*~~  
  
"And a child shall lead them into the light."  
--Perixan Proverb  
  
Dylan stopped just inside the door to Trance's room, eyes wide with shock.  
  
The room had been transformed into the Vedren forests of his childhood, with a variety of flora and fauna. The scent of earth and living things was so strong, he swore if he'd come in there blindfolded he would've thought he was planetside. The walls and floor were buried in soft, rustling leaves, creeper vines with maroon stems and brilliant green grasses. The center of the room held a thick-trunked tree whose branches ran parallel to the ceiling.  
  
He entered the room staring up at the branches, wondering how stable they were, and bumped into a row of low bushes. He jerked back, startled. The bushes were a deep green, pine scented and very thick. He cocked his head in amusement when he saw the makeshift bathtub partially hidden behind them.  
  
"Uh, Trance? Did all of this come from Hydroponics?"  
  
"No. I brought a few souvenirs from my vacations." She shrugged and gave him her most innocent look.  
  
"Ah. Could you let me know next time? Some of this stuff could be dangerous."  
  
She giggled. "Oh, Dylan, I know my plants."  
  
He turned to look at her and, for him, time momentarily stopped. She stood before him cradling a baby who cooed at him with chubby lips and stared with intelligent eyes. One tiny fist grasped Trance's tail like a lifeline. Dylan blinked in disbelief.  
  
"Don't be mad," Trance said quickly, gauging his reaction. "He found me. Y'know he's really cute and the Soltan's are trying to kill him and ... here." She thrust the child toward him.  
  
Automatically, he reached out and took the baby. He gazed into the large hazel eyes. The infant gurgled and played with his chin, looking serious. "Wait," Dylan said, "how do we know this isn't just a lost child? It--"  
  
"He."  
  
"He might have just wandered off from his Mommy."  
  
"Then why would the Regent hide that fact?" Tyr asked, reclined against the tree trunk, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
The baby swatted Dylan in the ear before plucking at the bridge of his nose. Evading the tiny groping fingers, Dylan unconsciously swung the child to one hip and bounced him gently. He shrugged. "Maybe he was embarrassed? Losing your children doesn't make you sound very competent."  
  
"Misplacing a child is traumatic for a parent," Rev Bem pointed out. "There would have been screaming, crying, possibly panic."  
  
Dylan stared at him, struggling for a rational explanation. He refused to believe anyone would intentionally hunt down a child. "So--"  
  
"Fortnoy was lying," Tyr snapped. "They want the child. He's a threat."  
  
"He's a baby!"  
  
"The Regent apparently doesn't see it that way."  
  
"Tyr--"  
  
"Dylan, the practice of infanticide is prevalent throughout history, even in your human society. Look at the Biblical story of Jesus. Harrod killed off many infants simply because he was told Jesus would be King."  
  
"Touche."  
  
"They want to murder the child," Tyr argued. "To shape the future."  
  
Trance nodded quickly, the sparkly spangles adorning her hair shimmering. "And not for good things, Dylan, for bad, bad things or else they would have just asked."  
  
"And not resorted to subterfuge," Tyr added. "Think logically. Not only did they disguise the search, they wanted no help in performing it. Remember the prophecy."  
  
Dylan's face grew grim. He gazed down at the infant, who reached out to stick an exploratory finger between Dylan's lips. The baby glanced up at him, cooing seriously.  
  
"I, too, know of a prophecy," Rev Bem said. "Do not underestimate its power."  
  
"Okay, I'll bite. Rev, what's your Prophecy of the Day?"  
  
"Well, it's more of a distillation of many prophecies ... a theory, really," he began.  
  
"The universe is at a crux, a crossroads. On one side is peace, the other chaos. I believe this is the crucial event. Many system prophecies say a messiah will rise to lead a new empire."  
  
"Most cultures have messianic myths. That doesn't mean they point to this boy, to our new empire." Emotions roiled in his eyes as he tried to defend against the inevitable. But it just couldn't be. Messianic myths weren't about real God-given messiahs. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew they were created by men to support whatever beliefs would further their personal power and put more money in their coffers. His crew couldn't be correct. This sweet little child couldn't have been specifically sent to rule his Commonwealth. It wasn't possible, was it? That would mean there was no free choice. All events were predestined.  
  
Unless ... someone was pulling the strings intentionally and wanted the Commonwealth restored. The concept was beyond him. Thinking about it made his head pound. The project was just too enormous, spanning eons and three galaxies. There were trillions of variables. Dylan was a simple man with a not-so-simple mission in life. That was all that mattered.  
  
"You would be surprised, Dylan Hunt, by the ways of the Divine. The Avalon system's prophecy states, 'Arthur shall rise after the Universe's darkest hour, led by a knight of the table round.' In Mariah they say, 'A young boy shall redeem us from chaos and death to restore sanctuary.' The Glexuan bible says, 'The child of adversity shall bring the new Reign of Peace. He shall rise up from the ashes to realize the dreams of a man.' Shall I go on?"  
  
Hope and disbelief battled on Dylan's face. "You can't compare this to King Arthur," he said lamely, unable to think of a solid argument.  
  
"He is merely a symbol in the myth for a leader of great stature."  
  
Dylan's mind raced. It all made sense and his crew certainly believed it. He had trouble trusting their judgment; a fault he was trying, consciously, to rectify. They were intelligent people. But, he had his doubts. He knew everyone was capable of atrocities, but slaughtering babies? Prophecies about the New Commonwealth? He still couldn't quite handle that. His disbelief won out. He shook his head.  
  
"Superstitions. It has to be. I mean, how could ... how old are these prophecies?"  
  
Rev Bem spoke up, "As old as 500 years many much younger."  
  
"You see? How could a 500-year-old myth include the fall of the Commonwealth, the massacres that happened after, 300 years of chaos, you, me, the possible rebirth of the Empire and a tiny baby? It doesn't make sense. It isn't logical."  
  
"Perhaps, the prophets had the ear of the Divine? Perhaps, he whispered to them so that they might prepare? Some things in the Universe yield no answers no matter how diligently we question them."  
  
Dylan pursed his lips. "You have an answer for everything, don't you, Rev?"  
  
The Magog shrugged his fuzzy shoulders. "I read a lot."  
  
"But--"  
  
Tyr cut him off, "Dylan, the Essiivv woman spoke of destiny and--"He glanced from one person to another. "A future Emperor."  
  
"That doesn't prove anything. They could have read the same books."  
  
"Dylan." Andromeda's voice came over the loudspeakers.  
  
"Yes, Andromeda?"  
  
"I've lost contact with my avatar. She does not respond."  
  
Dylan frowned, puzzled. He handed the baby back to Trance. "What was her last location?"  
  
"Crewman Victor's quarters."  
  
Dylan frowned at the mention his deceased shipmate's name. "The Soltans?"  
  
"Unknown."  
  
"Keep searching. I'm on my way. Tyr?" He gave the tall Nietzschean a questioning look.  
  
Tyr nodded and followed him.  
  
"But, Dylan!" Trance called.  
  
Dylan turned. Trance held out the infant. "Can we keep him?"  
  
He snorted, struck by the humor of her serious question. His expression softened. For some reason, he had a hard time saying 'no' to her. "Temporary amnesty."  
  
He and Tyr ran down the corridor.  
  
^j^  
  
Cural smiled. The direct course of action was always the best. He worked quickly on the door to the Slipstream drive chamber. The Regent's office had provided a scan of the Andromeda Ascendant before the party ... just in case. The Regent was well known for preparation. First, he disabled the sensors that would alert Andromeda to the intrusion. Then, he opened the door.  
  
Child's play.  
  
He grew more frustrated with every moment that passed in which his compatriots did not find the usurper. The Andromeda's crew was toying with them; moving the child from room to room, deck to deck, while his men scanned and ran themselves ragged. He was certain of it. He would show them. He would gain favor in the eyes of the Regent, a man touched by God. He would be paid enough to buy the freedom of his sisters from the Regent's harem, to free his little brother from the mines. They might even throw him a parade.  
  
He shook his round head to rid himself of the fantasies and concentrate on his work. He found the control panels to the Slipstream Drive easily. Disabling it was a simple task – a snip here, a tug there. A few sparks flew and the acrid stench of burnt wiring plumed into the air. He smiled, satisfied.  
  
He only had one task left.  
  
^j^  
  
Dylan and Tyr jogged through the corridors.  
  
Abruptly, the Andromeda Ascendant rocked as a volley of laser fire slammed into her underbelly. They were tossed into the wall, bounced and landed in a heap. Tyr shoved the slightly smaller man off of him and leapt nimbly to his feet as the ship lurched again.  
  
"Code Red, Code Red," Andromeda intoned through the ship-wide speakers.  
  
"Incoming fire from the planet's surface."  
  
Dylan stood. "What? I thought they were defenseless."  
  
"Wolves in the fold," Tyr muttered.  
  
"I have to get to Command. Find Rommie and the guards."  
  
"And if force is necessary?"  
  
"I want them alive ... but do what you have to." Dylan whirled and sprinted for Command.  
  
"With pleasure," Tyr said to the captain's retreating back. Buoyed by the fact that he'd be blessed with his fight after all, he bounded toward Crewman Victor's quarters with renewed enthusiasm.  
  
^j^  
  
Dylan skidded through the door to Command as Beka barked into the Com system, "Dylan? Dylan, permission to return fire? Let me blast the crap outta them!"  
  
"Denied. Evasive maneuvers," he said, skidding to a stop beside her.  
  
Sparing him a glance, she piloted the ship around another salvo. The Andromeda bucked with the near misses. "I've already taken us out of geosynchronous orbit, out as far as the three moons."  
  
"What're they firing?"  
  
"Don't know. But, it packs a punch. They aren't careful, they'll pulverize one of their own moons and us too."  
  
"Take us out further." Dylan dashed to the weapons console, reading the data scrolling across the screen.  
  
"Why don't we just slipstream outta this dive?"  
  
"We have something they want. Andromeda?" he said.  
  
Her image appeared on the view screen on the wall. "Yes, Dylan?"  
  
"Identify weapon and its source."  
  
"Beams suggest Gattling Pulse Cannon. Origin is a portion of Castle Catoria."  
  
"That explains where they hid such a huge weapon. Vernius is all farmland but the Castle's enormous."  
  
"And why they didn't want us to go to the surface," Beka said, steering between incoming laser bolts. "Had to meet 'em in the little berg 10 miles from the Castle to pick up the rations. You sure know how to pick 'em."  
  
"I try," Dylan quipped, punching buttons and locking in on the cannon.  
  
"We are being hailed," Andromeda said.  
  
"Put it through."  
  
The Regent's cadaverous face appeared. His dark spidery eyes narrowed. "Captain Hunt, no doubt you now know there is no bomb."  
  
Dylan straightened, assuming a formal stance, a stance that exuded power and confidence. He met the Regent's glare unwaveringly. "No doubt."  
  
"Return the usurper and we will allow you to depart without further ... incidents."  
  
Dylan let the moment stretch. He glared at the Regent, trying to make him sweat, pretending to think the offer over. Behind him, Rev Bem entered Command and stopped near his elbow. Dylan glanced at him then back to the Regent. "No."  
  
The Regent's face drained of its little color. His eyes widened until the irises floated in a sea of off white. A tiny muscle in his cheek twitched.  
  
Dylan grinned imperceptibly. "Check," he mused. He loved it when they got nervous.  
  
The Regent bared large white teeth. "You misunderstand the importance of this child," he said, underscored with a low snarl.  
  
Dylan shook his head slowly. This guy just didn't get it. "We're on the same page, Regent Fortnoy. You will cease-fire or we will destroy your weapon. You didn't really think you could hide it from a High Guard ship of the line, did you?"  
  
A wide grin stretched the thin skin on the sides of the Regent's face. Dylan shivered as a chill sent spidery fingers down his spine and limbs.  
  
"End transmission," Dylan said.  
  
In the pilot's seat, Beka swallowed hard, her blue eyes widening in fear. She covered it quickly, but knew his face would haunt her nightmares.  
  
It occurred to Dylan that the threat didn't bother the Regent at all. "Dive!" he ordered.  
  
The first officer blinked in surprise, but reacted instantly. The Andromeda dove sharply. A barrage of laser fire splintered a section of the upper hull.  
  
"Where's it coming from?" Beka shouted over the whine of the engines and crackle of sparks from various control panels.  
  
"One of the moons. Correction, two of the moons have opened fire. Incoming," Andromeda intoned.  
  
Buffeted by blows from above, below and to one side, the Andromeda lurched like a puppet on a string. Dylan returned fire while Beka fought to keep them in one piece. She steered them around most of the laser fire. A few hit their targets.  
  
"Dylan! Let's get outta here!" Beka shouted.  
  
"Go!"  
  
Beka braced herself and activated the Slipstream Drive. The ship lurched forward, spluttered and drifted.  
  
"Slipstream Drive and some internal sensors off-line," Andromeda said.  
  
"Terrific," Beka muttered, feverishly working to get the sublight drive started. It caught and the ship started forward. "We lost some time on that one."  
  
"They're targeting Engineering," Dylan called. "Beka?"  
  
"I'm trying. We're past the moons, but there's no telling the range on those weapons."  
  
"Estimated range is to the fourth planet," Andromeda said.  
  
Beka shook her head. "Long way to safe, boss."  
  
"Do your best."  
  
The room filled with the sounds of distant explosions as the Soltan weapons found purchase. Andromeda's weapons discharged, an echoing whine filling the air. The acrid stench of burnt wiring made Beka sneeze.  
  
"Andromeda, report," Dylan barked.  
  
Her image appeared on the view screen. "I'm showing incomplete circuits, cut wiring perhaps, in my Drive room."  
  
"Where's Harper?"  
  
"He accompanied my avatar."  
  
"Great. Ship-wide."  
  
"Activated."  
  
"Tyr," Dylan called, his voice echoing in the empty corridors. "Round up our guests and get Harper down to fix the Drive, now! Close channel. Beka, get us out of here. Andromeda, return fire. Target their weapons and demolish them."  
  
"Even the cannon inside the Castle?"  
  
"Yes." Dylan jogged toward the door.  
  
"What about Vernius? The town?"  
  
"As little collateral damage as possible. Do your best."  
  
"Where are you going?" Beka said.  
  
"To fix the Drive myself."  
  
^j^  
  
Merath lay in wait, crouched in the shadows, his back pressed against the sharp metal of a corridor support. He licked his full lips and held his scanner up with trembling fingers. The tiny machine emitted beeps that were inaudible to humans, but well within the range of Soltan hearing. The quickening beeps indicated that a being of at least partial Soltan blood approached. He knew Jonay and Cural were in far distant parts of the ship. Thus, his quarry was found. A rush of fear ran through him. He didn't relish the thought of killing a child, but it was his duty. If he let the child escape, he would be executed, as would his wife. He dared not fail. He did not care that prophecy deemed the child a future ruler. The Regent was a tyrant and a vicious leader. Merath thought the child might be better. Too bad circumstances were as they were. He shivered, readjusting his grip on his laser pistol. His knees began to ache, but he remained still. The soft beeping from the scanner raced.  
  
Trance and Rev Bem stopped in the corridor, now lit to normal human brightness. Trance hugged the baby tight, smiling at him and tickling his sides. She glanced up at the Magog priest and frowned. "Do you think that's the right thing, Rev?"  
  
He nodded, the auburn fur on his lumpy head waggling. He adjusted his cloak with clawed fingers. "Yes. We should confer with Dylan before acting."  
  
"Maybe we should prepare the Maru?" she suggested. "Just so we're ready. I mean, Dylan must be busy now with the attack and all so we could save a step."  
  
"How do we know he will approve of our plan?"  
  
The Andromeda jerked to the side again. Rev Bem thrust one hand against the wall to steady him and caught Trance with the other as she pitched sideways. He stood her upright.  
  
"Thanks." She gave the ceiling a nervous look. "He will. I know Dylan will approve. I mean, look at this little defenseless baby. How could he give him back?"  
  
Rev Bem regarded the child with kind eyes. "Mm, I agree. Humans have a strong weakness for their young."  
  
"So?"  
  
He sighed. "We will prepare the Maru for any eventuality."  
  
They took a fork in the corridors toward the hanger bay housing the Eureka Maru. After a few steps, Rev Bem sniffed the air and touched Trance's arm softly.  
  
"Trance, I smell --"  
  
Merath leapt from his hiding place, weapon outstretched. He stood in a half- crouch, a grimace crinkling the slack skin of his ash-grey face. "Don't move ... please."  
  
She squeaked in surprise.  
  
The infant shrieked, reacting to her fear.  
  
"Deposit the child on the floor and depart," Merath ordered, motioning with the gun.  
  
Instinctively, Trance's arm tightened around the baby. "No!"  
  
"I will kill you."  
  
Rev Bem growled.  
  
Trance shifted, turning the baby away from their attacker and her backside toward him, her tail held close to her body.  
  
The Soltan grew impatient. "Put down the usurper now!"  
  
Rev Bem took one step to the side, drawing Merath's attention. Trance's tail whipped around and slapped the gun from his hand. He gasped. Rev Bem leapt onto him, knocking him to the floor. He grabbed their attacker's shoulders and smacked the man's head on the floor. When the Rev straightened, Merath lay still, unconscious.  
  
"I will take him to the brig," said Rev, "you get the child safely to the Maru."  
  
She nodded quickly and scampered away, humming to shush the infant's crying.  
  
^j^  
  
Tyr jogged to crewman Victor's quarters. Half-crouched outside the door, he scanned the areas using all of his senses. It was silent. The faint metallic taste of blood hung in the air. The acrid tang of burnt wiring clung to the walls. He knew Harper was inside; he could smell the faint sickly sweet aroma of old Sparky Cola, a scent that oozed from every pore of Harper's body. He entered the room with his weapon ready, swinging it from side to side to cover any intruders. He found none. A brief thorough search uncovered Harper's still body lying atop Rommie's inert form. A pang of regret stabbed his chest. Tyr felt the engineer for a pulse. It was steady and strong. Harper had a nasty red bump on the back of his head that spread dark purple tendrils like fingers through his mussed dirty blond hair. Tyr rolled him onto the floor and slapped his cheeks lightly.  
  
"Harper, we need you. Wake up, Little Man."  
  
The smaller man came around slowly. A spark of alertness lit in his pale blue eyes. He shoved himself onto his knees, baring his teeth and staring around the room with wild eyes. "Where are they? Those lying double- crossing ... let me show them the airlock."  
  
Tyr stood. "Relax. They've gone."  
  
"Yeah, well just let me catch them!"  
  
Tyr sighed and, just as he had done during their battle with the Magog, explained patiently, "The Slipstream Drive is inoperative. Fix it. We have been infiltrated and it's been sabotaged."  
  
"What? I need a doctor here."  
  
"Whine when you are alone and without a mission."  
  
Harper noticed the avatar limp at his feet, her coffee brown eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. "I have to fix Rommie."  
  
The Andromeda lurched as a laser hit the upper decks. Harper was tossed into Tyr. The Nietzschean stood him upright.  
  
"Or, I could fix the Slipstream Drive so we can get the heck outta here."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"And, you're gonna off the zombies?"  
  
Tyr gave him a slight grin.  
  
"Kick 'em for me, huh?"  
  
The Nietzschean beamed at the skinny engineer. At times like this, the boy showed such potential. "Count on it," he promised as they took off toward the room where the Slipstream Drive was located.  
  
^j^  
  
Dylan climbed the ladder to the upper level, swinging easily from it to the corridor and breaking into a sprint before his feet touched the floor. Sweat dribbled down the side of his face.  
  
Andromeda's voice emanated from the overhead speakers. Ghostly echoes followed him through the empty corridors. "Dylan, Tyr has found Harper. He's injured, but will meet you in the Drive Room. Rommie is unavailable."  
  
"Understood," he called, barreling around a corner.  
  
Suddenly, an arm shot out of the shadows and clotheslined him, hitting him just below the neck. He fell backward, swept off his feet. Jonay dove for him. Coughing, Dylan kicked out one foot, caught the smaller man in the solar plexus and shoved.  
  
Jonay flew through the air and smashed into the wall. As he slid to the floor, Dylan jumped up. Jonay pulled a laser pistol from his belt, aiming it shakily at the tall Vedren.  
  
"Hey, now," Dylan help up a placating hand, smiling diplomatically. "You don't want to shoot me."  
  
"Do not stand in our way, Alien."  
  
"Why would I do that? Andromeda," Dylan called, "internal defenses." He leapt into the air, catching hold of a metal ceiling beam.  
  
For a split second, Jonay looked confused. He raised his weapon. The floor electrified. Sparks bounced around Jonay's boots like leaping fish. He made a choking sound. After a few seconds, the current shut off and he fell backward with a thud.  
  
Dylan dropped to the floor and checked him for a pulse. "Thanks, Andromeda. Have a drone drag him to the brig."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"Status?"  
  
"Rev Bem has locked one Soltan in the brig. You caught another. There is one running loose. Tyr and Harper are proceeding to the Slipstream Drive Chamber. The Soltans seem to be recharging their weapons, giving us a brief reprieve."  
  
Dylan thought quickly. His crew had things under control. If he had one major fault, it was that he trusted his crew implicitly. It had gotten him into trouble before. But, he wasn't about to give up the practice now. "I'm returning to help Beka."  
  
He sprinted back to Command, slowing imperceptibly at cross-corridors to be prepared for attack.  
  
^j^  
  
The Andromeda bucked under the renewed onslaught. Trance pitched forward, flipping herself in the air so that she hit the deck on her shoulder, the infant safe atop her chest. She groaned in agony. Her entire right side burned with pain.  
  
"Great," she muttered, lying on her back on the cold floor. "I think I chipped a tooth." She held the baby away from her and checked for injuries. "Good, you're fine. You'd better be fine, little man, because a lot of people will depend on you someday."  
  
The baby regarded her seriously. His large hazel eyes melted to green, reflecting a change in mood. He burbled to her, reaching out to caress her cheek.  
  
She smiled. "I know." She struggled to her feet, cradling him in the crook of her left arm. Her right shoulder throbbed, but she knew it would fade. She healed very quickly. She jogged toward the Maru.  
  
Her footfalls in the hanger deck were hollow and seemed unusually loud to her ears. The child's soft, "Da da da ... " echoed eerily behind Trance as she entered the Maru.  
  
Her time working for Beka on the crew of the Eureka Maru served her well. With the child on her lap, she did a quick pre-flight check.  
  
"No, no," she chimed when he reached for the buttons and colored lights. "I know the lights and handles are pretty, but you really could mess things up by playing with them." She swung her tail up and twitched it to entertain him, completely the checks with quick efficiency.  
  
He continued to fuss, so she carried him to a low bench with a harness and seat belt, fastened him in and turned to return to the controls.  
  
Cural blocked her path.  
  
A gasp of surprise escaped her lips. "Oh, this one," she muttered. This was one of the futures she had seen.  
  
He let the comment pass. Aliens were unreasonable ... faithless. They didn't comprehend that the Regent was the one true ruler, ordained by God and blood to lead everyone.  
  
"Step aside, Creature. The usurper must die." He aimed his pistol at the baby.  
  
She stepped into the line of fire, determination darkening her lavender features.  
  
"Look I don't know why you'd kill a sweet innocent baby but I really think you should reconsider for the sake of your karma if nothing else."  
  
He bared his teeth. "I'm not listening, Disbeliever."  
  
"Put down the gun," she ordered, lowering her voice.  
  
"Do you want to die, Woman?"  
  
She raised one eyebrow menacingly, transforming her innocent face into that of an avenging angel. A cold, ancient wisdom glittered in her dark eyes. "Do you?"  
  
He blinked rapidly, suddenly uncertain. Strengthening his resolve, he shifted his fingers to grip his weapon more tightly. "You have no idea who that is," he nearly spat out the words and cocked his head to indicate the infant.  
  
"I know exactly who he is," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I made him. Do you know who I am?"  
  
He stared at her for a moment, trying to delve beneath her words. "If you do not support my Regent then you are a casualty of war."  
  
"Really?" she said in a sweet, little girl voice. Her tail flicked back and forth, cat-like. She closed her eyes. Behind him, there was a small noise.  
  
He whirled, weapon ready.  
  
She grinned humorlessly and vanished from his perceptions. It was a trick she learned as a child from her Granny, a temple priestess. She could easily make herself invisible to people if she concentrated enough, focused her psychic energy. Thought waves were electrical impulses. Her kind could project those energies and change the perceptions of others. She would pinpoint his mind, convince his subconscious that he couldn't see her. To his conscious mind, she disappeared even though she might be inches away. She could make him believe he couldn't hear her. But, that wasn't the plan. She cloaked his vision, made him think he couldn't see her or the child. A simple trick. He turned back to where she had been.  
  
His eyes widened in shock. He spun in a circle. They were gone! He growled in fury. "What is this! A game!"  
  
She danced away from his waving arms, hurried to the baby and moved him to another part of the ship, stepping lightly. He could still hear her if she wasn't careful. The child safe in another room, she ran back, anxious to teach him a lesson about the consequences of destroying innocence.  
  
The man spun slowly, staring at every nook and cranny.  
  
She strolled up to him, careful to avoid touching him. It was time to scare him. Leaning close behind him, she whispered just loud enough for him to be unsure whether or not he heard her voice, "You're going to die." She savored the look of terror that infused his face.  
  
He whirled, eyes wide and wild.  
  
She pranced around the large man, just out of reach. "Run," she whispered. "Forget the boy."  
  
"Ghosts!" he screeched. "Sorcery!"  
  
She giggled softly. The sound echoed all around him. His dark eyes were wide with terror, his breathing fast and labored. A sheen of sweat slicked his brow and trickled down his nose. He didn't wipe it away, didn't notice it at all. She stepped closer and brushed her fingers against the back of his neck with a feather-light touch.  
  
He howled in terror. She ducked away from his flailing arms.  
  
"I am death," she whispered, purposely letting the last word draw out and fade.  
  
His hands shook. He fired two wild rounds down the long hall into the main ship, whirled and fired at random in the command. Trance stood back and watched him, arms crossed over her bosom. He was like an animal, sniffing the air to find her. His eyes had lost all sanity. He had forgotten the child, forgotten his Regent.  
  
Trance was satisfied.  
  
Abruptly tired of the game and afraid he'd damage the Maru, she stepped forward to disable him. As if sensing her ghostly presence, he spun and ran blindly. Sprinting at full speed, he collided with a metal beam. The gong of his head hitting metal reverberated throughout the ship. He fell to the floor, dead. Startled, Trance stared at him for a long moment. Sadness and relief flooded over her.  
  
Then, the Maru lurched as another salvo hit the Andromeda. "How sad," she murmured, "but necessary." Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. She couldn't allow all of her hard work to come to naught. The Regent would never gain more than regional power over a few systems, but she knew what type of ruler he was. She couldn't allow him to kill off the best hope for peace in the triple universes.  
  
She smiled wistfully. Dylan would be happy if he knew all she had done. It was his dream come to fruition. Without the child, he had little chance. Desperate people need a single person to rally behind, to give them hope. Dylan was an excellent catalyst, but he was no emperor. He was charismatic enough, but he lacked the guile and the desire. Uniting the New Commonwealth into a living thing would have to be done for him.  
  
She dashed back to the controls and finished preparing the ship for departure.  
  
She would take care of Cural later.  
  
^j^  
  
"You go first," Harper whispered.  
  
Tyr tossed him a dark look. "Of course." He wouldn't trust his life to the diminutive human. Despite his grudging respect for the human's engineering genius, he didn't even trust Harper to defend Harper.  
  
Tyr spun his body through the open door to the Slipstream Drive Chamber, gun before him like a pointing finger. The walkway was empty, the room echoing with the sporadic hiss of loose wiring bouncing against metal. Locating the sound, he saw swinging wires give off a shower of sparks each time they swung too close to the metal wall. The Slipstream Drive pulsed a sickly color. He scanned the room, checking in every direction, including the ceiling. "The room is clear," he announced.  
  
Harper pushed past him, clambering over the walkway railing and pulling a tool from his ever-present toolbelt to repair the wiring.  
  
"How long?" Tyr asked from the doorway.  
  
Not looking up, Harper shrugged. "Fifteen minutes? Ten? Can't be exact until I know what all the zombies did."  
  
"Hurry." Tyr left. He had to find the intruders and had no idea where they had gone. "Ship," he said.  
  
"Yes, Tyr?"  
  
"Scan for the Soltans."  
  
"Two are in the brig. The other is ... on the Eureka Maru."  
  
"Thank you." Tyr sprinted for the hanger bay.  
  
^j^  
  
"Target the Castle," Dylan ordered.  
  
"Targeted."  
  
"Fire."  
  
Andromeda unleashed a barrage of weapons fire. Far below, on the planet's surface, a beam of light pierced the castle fortress where the big gun was held. People ran pell-mell, desperate to find safety. The beam shimmered, absorbed by the fortress' shielding. The air filled with static and the acrid stench of burnt plastic. The beam from space stopped. The shield buzzed, deafening those nearby, then blinked off.  
  
"First volley did not penetrate to the castle."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Apparently they have shielding."  
  
"Fire number two. I want that shield down, NOW."  
  
The next beam hit the unprotected building. The gun and fortress exploded in a shower of sparks, shrapnel and pulverized bricks. Choking clouds of red dust filled the damp air.  
  
"Target destroyed," Andromeda said.  
  
Dylan nodded with satisfaction. Maybe this would show the Regent that he wasn't the biggest dog in the neighborhood. "Target the closest moon."  
  
Suddenly, the Andromeda rocked. The repercussion from the impact echoed through the hull.  
  
"Incoming! They're giving us all they've got." Beka turned in the pilot's seat to flash Dylan a smile. "Getting desperate, I'd say."  
  
She waggled her eyebrows.  
  
"Moon targeted," Andromeda droned.  
  
Lights flickered as a volley of laser fire hit Andromeda's port side. Plumes of gray smoke puffed into the air.  
  
"Fire."  
  
"Did not penetrate shield."  
  
"These people suck! Fire again."  
  
"Firing."  
  
The moments stretched interminably as the Soltan weapon rapidly fired on the Andromeda. After four salvos of returned fire, the moon's shield and weapons complex exploded in a brilliant white light.  
  
Dylan breathed a short sigh of relief and turned his attention to the other moon, just coming into range around the planet's edge. Throughout the ship, small fires sent plumes of smoke into the air. The recyclers whined with the strain. Bots rushed to put out the fires and make repairs. The interior of the Andromeda was clouded with a faint fog of smoke.  
  
^j^  
  
Rev Bem scurried onto the Command Deck. For a moment, he watched the action then he crossed to Dylan's side.  
  
"I must speak with you, Dylan."  
  
Dylan spared him a glance. "I'm kinda busy here."  
  
"Then I shall come right to the point. They will pursue the child until he is dead. However, I know of a safe-haven in the Belan system."  
  
"And you want permission to take the Maru and the child."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
Dylan quickly weighed his options. He couldn't raise a child on the Andromeda; it would be in too much danger. He couldn't return the child to the Regent. The man was obviously unstable or, at the very least, capable of murdering an innocent baby. If his friend knew of a sanctuary, so be it. "Fine. We'll distract them."  
  
"Thank you. Trance and I shall leave post haste. The Divine be with you." He turned and ran as fast as he could for the Maru.  
  
A blast of laser fire hit the Andromeda, tossing him hard against the doorframe. He pushed off and reeled down the corridor. Their reprieve was over.  
  
TBC in ch 8 


	8. Chapter 8

~~*~~ Chapter 8 ~~*~~  
  
Greed is the death of civilizations.  
--Xainto Merci, History of Universe, part 4, CY12,923  
  
Tyr entered the Maru to find Trance tugging Cural's limp form toward the air lock. She glanced up as he towered over her.  
  
"I suppose you do not need me now." His dulcet tones echoed.  
  
"Well, he is heavy. You could toss him out for me," she suggested with a wide-eyed look.  
  
With one hand, the large Nietzschean slung the body over his shoulder, carried him to the air lock and flung him out. He turned and regarded Trance seriously, gazing up and down her body as if really seeing her for the first time. "I'm impressed. You did this alone, Little One?"  
  
Her eyes widened. She shrugged. "Kinda, well, the Maru helped ... he ran into the pipe."  
  
He narrowed his eyes, reading between the lines. He sensed that there was more to the story. He often suspected this woman to be much less innocent than she pretended. Innocence was such a rare commodity in the Universe that he didn't believe she could have so much of it. Given the present circumstances, he decided to let it go ... for now.  
  
Rev Bem dashed in through the air lock. "Was that number three?" he asked, pointing back into the hanger bay.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We're leaving, Tyr. We need you."  
  
The tall Nietzschean met his eyes. "I shall fire up the weapons. We shall need them," he agreed, sliding into the seat of the weapons station and keying in the warm-up sequence as the Andromeda trembled and groaned around them.  
  
She bounced back to the pilot's chair. "Fasten yourself in, Rev. I'm not good at this."  
  
"Then allow me. You see to the child." Rev Bem took the controls from her.  
  
She ran to the baby and strapped them both into seats as the Eureka Maru shot out of the Andromeda's hanger bay into the laser-riddled starscape.  
  
Immediately, they were buffeted by the shock waves from small explosions on the Andromeda's hull. Rev Bem fought the controls.  
  
The gun on the second moon found them, targeted, fired.  
  
"Hang on!" the Magog pilot shouted as the Maru jumped into the Slipstream and vanished from the Soltan system. The beam passed through the empty space they left behind.  
  
Suddenly, the moon's gun burst into tiny pieces as a blast from Andromeda's weapons finally got through.  
  
^j^  
  
Still without Slipstream capability, the Andromeda plodded toward the outer planets of the system. Each planet they passed opened fire upon them with hidden lasguns. Her defenses were being stripped away bit by bit.  
  
Dylan stalked back and forth near the weapons console, fuming. He returned fire whenever necessary but had Beka try to dodge the incoming fire as much as possible. "For a technologically deprived system they sure have a lot of firepower."  
  
"Snakes in the grass," Beka muttered. A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead and trickled down her nose. Locks of blond hair clung damply to her cheeks. She loved a good fight, but not an ambush.  
  
"Open fire. Random targets. Military targets. Hell, fire at them all," Dylan snapped, growing tired of the fight. "And don't hit the Maru."  
  
"'Bout time," Beka muttered with a smile, glad they were finally going to kick some butt.  
  
"The Eureka Maru has already transited to Slipstream," Andromeda said.  
  
At the weapons console, Dylan coordinated and fired off salvo after salvo in harmony with Andromeda's own volleys. Visible explosions on several planets rewarded their efforts. Dylan allowed himself a satisfied grin as the incoming fire died off. Everything was silent but for the hiss and snap of fried circuitry. A thin haze of stinging smoke blanketed command.  
  
"Whoo hoo!" Beka crowed then broke into a coughing fit.  
  
"Hey, Dylan," Harper's voice came through the com system.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Slipstream's online. Am I a god or what?"  
  
Dylan and Beka exchanged amused looks. Beka silently mouthed the words, 'Better late than never.'  
  
Dylan grinned. "Great job, Harper. Set about repairs. Quickly. We aren't out of the frying pan yet."  
  
"Got your back," Harper said.  
  
"Incoming transmission," Andromeda said.  
  
"Put it through."  
  
An image of the Regent appeared on the view screen, a sour pout on his cadaverous face. His dark eyes glittered like a rattlesnake's.  
  
"Check," crowed the Regent.  
  
"Checkmate," Dylan responded calmly.  
  
The Regent bared sharp teeth. "You have kidnapped a citizen of my domain," he sounded affronted.  
  
"You tried to kill him ... and my crew." Dylan glared at the viewscreen, menacingly. "I don't ... like ... that," he pronounced each word crisply.  
  
"It's a local matter," the Regent purred. "None of your concern."  
  
"So, stop the slaughter. Leave the child, leave all of the children alone. Live and let live."  
  
The Regent waved skeletal fingers in front of his face. "Everyone dies. My family will rule forever."  
  
Dylan scowled. "Your basic premise is wrong." He waited for the words to sink in, leaning forward and watching the Regent closely. The man perked up, a sneer turning up one corner of his large mouth and a skeptical glimmer in his beady eyes. "The boy isn't destined to take over your rule. He's not taking anything from you. His fate is much more important than this minor little outer rim system."  
  
The Regent's sneer faltered. The ramifications of Dylan's words showed clearly in the widening of his eyes until the irises floated in a sea of white. "But ... nonsense! There is nothing larger to rule."  
  
Dylan raised his eyebrows and said nothing. The Regent clearly realized he meant the new Commonwealth, a trans-galactic Empire.  
  
Emotions raced across the Regent's gray face. Abruptly, he straightened in his seat, slowly brushing a hand down the front of his ceremonial tunic with practiced calm. He spoke in harsh, clipped tones, "You have lost our system, Captain Hunt. Your new Commonwealth shall fail. We'll fight you with each breath."  
  
"So be it."  
  
"We have allies spread like insects across the three galaxies. You will regret this."  
  
"When the Magog Worldship arrives you'll be alone."  
  
One corner of the Regent's mouth turned up mockingly. "Don't be so naive, Captain. Should that eventuality arise, your Commonwealth would hardly sacrifice innocents to the slaughter."  
  
Dylan's eyes narrowed. "You're far from innocent!" he snapped. "Enjoy your rule, Regent Fortnoy. I figure you have about fifteen years left." Dylan turned his back to the viewscreen and didn't see the Regent bristle at the insult just before Andromeda cut the connection. The star field glimmered peacefully on the screen.  
  
"Mr. Charming," Beka quipped.  
  
"There is a power surge in the Soltan weaponry. They are opening fire. Incoming," Andromeda intoned.  
  
"Beka, slipstream!" Dylan barked.  
  
Gritting her teeth, Beka plunged the ship into slipstream, leaving the fuming aliens far behind, their laser beams impotent in unoccupied space.  
  
Andromeda's hologram materialized beside Dylan. "What about the prisoners?" she asked.  
  
"Find a small, non-hostile planet nearby. Drop them off." And good riddance, he thought.  
  
^j^  
  
Trance's eyes widened in wonder at the sight of the planet below them. She rocked the sleeping baby, his cherubic cheek pressed into the hollow of her shoulder. The planet seemed green and peaceful. Gray and white cumulous clouds formed a lacy blanket over much of the landmass.  
  
"Wow," she whispered, "look how small the icy poles are. And so much green. It must be beautiful."  
  
"Miserably hot ... and sticky," Tyr groused from the weapons station.  
  
Rev piloted through a hole in the cloud cover. The Maru bounced with light turbulence.  
  
"Mm," he noted, "to the North I believe." He pointed with one curved fingertip claw toward far-off mountains, shrouded in a purple haze.  
  
The Maru arched gracefully through the clear air to skim along the canopy of treetops. Resembling a huge green carpet, the treetops were dotted with flowers in colors both familiar and unique.  
  
The mountains loomed high in the front viewport, rocky and crisscrossed with pink and red vegetation.  
  
"Rev, this Wayist temple of yours, it's in the mountains?" Tyr asked.  
  
"The temple is one with the mountain range, I'm told. Both outside in the forests and burrowed into the very mountains themselves."  
  
"You do know how to get in, don't you?"  
  
"In theory."  
  
Trance and Tyr both gave him a long-suffering look.  
  
It took fifteen minutes of searching to find a clearing big enough to land.  
  
"We've got a short hike ahead of us," Rev Bem said.  
  
"How far?" she asked, rocking the baby back and forth. She held him close, abruptly aware of how attached she was to him. He was so small, so defenseless. He had such a hard life ahead of him. She blinked back tears and buried her nose in his smattering of hair. She inhaled and let the intoxicating scent of baby relax her. She would have to let him go. She couldn't derail the future by changing his life from the path it was now on.  
  
"Perhaps five miles."  
  
"A morning stroll." Tyr draped his pulse rifle and harness over his shoulders. Being armed was instinctive to him.  
  
"Do you really need that?" she queried.  
  
"The most innocent appearances often harbor the most secrets and the most dangers." Tyr stared at her for so long that she squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
"But the priests wouldn't live somewhere like that, would they?" Trance asked as she followed the two males down the metal ramp to the grass. The overpowering aroma of strong scented plants and wet soil hit them like thick soup as they descended to the high spidery grass. It waved in a ghost of a breeze, leaving tiny wet lines on their legs.  
  
Tyr frowned. "Muggy, hot ... miserable."  
  
She breathed deeply, swaying dizzily as the heady scent soaked into her lungs. Insects buzzed a song loud enough to make their ears ring. Trance's violet face lit up with joy. "Pretty," she murmured, thinking how happy the boy should be here. Staring at the treetops high above them, she stumbled over a tree root jutting up from the spongy earth. Tyr and Rev Bem wove through the underbrush ahead of her. Light filtered through the high canopy of leaves, making tiny circles of light dance on the forest floor of soft, slowly rotting leaves. She smiled. The blanket of leaves was spongy beneath her boots. She peered into the deep shadows as they passed and started as an unseen animal skittered away.  
  
"It's said there are no large animals on this planet," Rev told them over his shoulder.  
  
"What do the Wayists eat, then?" she called.  
  
"Fish, vegetables. They are mainly vegetarian here. Ah, the entrance should be up there."  
  
She stopped beside Rev. They stood at the edge of the very tall trees in a clearing near the base of a mountain. Before them the terrain became more rocky, sloping upward at a sharp angle. Large cup-like pale pink, orange and red plants dotted the slope. Long tendrils draped from inside the cups. Flowers in bright purples and blues carpeted the areas between the rocks and large plants.  
  
Rev Bem led the way. "We shall have to walk on the flowers, I'm afraid."  
  
Tyr stopped walking. "That cannot be the correct path." The other two gave him questioning looks. "I refuse to believe that Wayists never leave the complex nor that they'd be willing to trample flowers each time they came into the sun. There must be another path." He studied the hillside sprawled before them. "There, at that end of the clearing there are more rocks, fewer flowers."  
  
"The Divine may have shown you the true path. Lead on."  
  
Tyr led them up the mountainside toward the spot Rev Bem had indicated earlier. The terrain was rocky, easy for Tyr to traverse, but Trance stumbled often, clutching the infant who clung to her. The two males outdistanced her quickly, concentrating on their own ascent. Trance slipped on a mossy rock, fell and caught herself with one hand. She sat down, her shoulders throbbing from carrying the child for so long. The baby began to cry.  
  
"Hush now. Shh, Little One. It's okay," she crooned, smoothing his thin hair and smiling at him.  
  
Behind her was a cup-shaped pink plant. Its skin and leaves so pale they almost looked flesh-like. A brighter pink tendril, draped over the side and lying amongst the rocks and flowers, twitched, moved, slithered toward her body heat and movement. She wiped the tears from the infant's rosy cheeks as his crying slowly subsided into hiccups. She laughed softly, tickling him.  
  
He giggled.  
  
Tyr and Rev Bem paused on an outcropping above them.  
  
The plant tendril, drawn inexorably to her, snaked under the blossoms and moss toward her.  
  
"Are you okay?" Rev Bem called.  
  
"Yes. We'll be right up." Trance brushed the sweat from her forehead, shifted the baby to a more comfortable position, stood and took two steps.  
  
The plant tendril shot out with the speed of a viper, wrapped around her ankle, squeezed and yanked. Trance shrieked. She fell. Flowers covered her nose and mouth. She struggled to hold the baby away from her. She choked, gagged. The tendril dragged her toward the main body of the plant. She fought for air. Sharp thorns and pebbles scratched her skin, leaving a thin trail of plum blood behind. Her foot and ankle burned with searing pain. The baby's wails were deafening. Trance kicked and thrashed.  
  
TBC in ch 9, the last one! 


	9. Chapter 9

~~*~~ Chapter 9 ~~*~~  
  
"The world moves of it's own volition, not to suit personal whims."  
---Archives of Urlilian Drift, Destroyed by Magog Worldship, CY 9798  
  
Suddenly, something tugged at the baby. "No!" Trance shrieked, clutching him ferociously. No killer plant would eat her baby!  
  
"Trance!" Tyr's deep voice ordered. "Trance, let go. I have the child."  
  
She released him; vision still clouded with flowers and dirt. Tyr tossed the child to the Rev, who scampered a safe distance away. Her free toes hit something soft, like pillows. Abruptly, she was yanked into the air by one foot. Her ankle screamed in agony. She was lifted beyond the flowers, dragged up into the air. Her trapped leg bent at the knee and she realized with terror that her leg was inside the plant. She flailed, clutched at his offered hand, digging in her nails.  
  
With his free hand, Tyr swung his force-lance at the other tendrils, snaking toward him, wrapping around his ankles. He severed several and turned to her. He leaned back, using his body weight to keep her from slipping over the edge. Her tail whipped out and wrapped around his torso. He jumped closer, put one foot up on the side of the plant and pulled. She inched out.  
  
He swung his force-lance at the main body of the plant. Pink goo splashed over his arm and the rocks he stood on. Angry, he gritted his teeth and yanked as hard as he could. He fell back onto his rear, pulling Trance with him. The tendril around her ankle stretched taut but didn't let go. He opened fire on it. It exploded in a shower of ooze the color of pink cotton candy.  
  
Trance fell onto him, sobbing. He held her close, scrabbling backward over thorny flowers and slick rocks to get out of the plant's range. He rocked her for a few moments until her sobs stilled. As if she weighed nothing, he stood, holding her in his arms and scampered up the mountainside to the outcropping, where Rev Bem waited, trying to shush the infant.  
  
They all fell to the ground on the small flat rocky outcropping, exhausted and shaking. Trance and Tyr caught their breath while he examined her ankle. The boot was in tatters and the skin underneath had black bruises, harsh against her pale lavender skin. He studied the wound.  
  
"I believe you only have bruises. There is minimal swelling," Tyr said.  
  
"It hurts. And it feels like my foot was asleep." She shook it, grimacing.  
  
He glanced up at her and grinned. "Only the circulation returning. If you can shake it, it isn't broken."  
  
"Can you walk, Trance?" Rev Bem asked. "It isn't much farther and my brothers will have medical supplies."  
  
She tested her weight on the injured ankle. She didn't tell them of her body's healing powers, or that she'd be fine in a matter of hours. "I ... I think I can hobble along. Is it much farther?"  
  
Rev Bem shook his horned and fur tufted head. "No, just over there."  
  
"Through that wall of those plants," she said with a shudder.  
  
"Ah. I see. Perhaps there is another way."  
  
"I'll torch them and that will be the way," Tyr stated, starting toward them. It would be a pleasure to rid the universe of such horrid creatures.  
  
"Wait," a high-pitched, child-like voice called from above them.  
  
They turned to see a young woman in Wayist's robes on a small ledge above them. Her red hair shone like flames in the sunlight. She rested one foot up on a small rock and leaned toward them. "We need the Ixcians for protection. They keep out the troublemakers."  
  
"I am Brother Behemial Far Traveler. The Divine has sent us on a mission of mercy to find refuge for this innocent ... until he is old enough to decide."  
  
"I am Sister Alliay." She studied each person in turned, her gaze coming to rest of the child. "Innocence is always welcome. Follow me. Use that path of rocks then step where I step."  
  
^j^  
  
Beka paced the Command Deck, swiping at the high collar of her scoop-necked dress. It itched horribly, but she didn't want to miss any action to run to her quarters and change. Dylan lounged in a chair, his feet stretched out before him.  
  
"How can you be so calm?" Beka demanded, whirling on him. "We've been waiting in this system for three hours?"  
  
He regarded her with mild amusement. "I'm sure Rev Bem is just chatting with some of his Wayist buddies. They'll show up."  
  
"They could have taken fire, been damaged and crashed my ship. We should scan the planets for wreckage."  
  
He chuckled.  
  
Behind them, Harper strolled through the door followed by Rommie. He sported a big white bandage on his forehead, held in place by a large band of white linen. His hair stuck out in wild tufts above it, making him resemble one of Trance's plants.  
  
Dylan smiled when he saw them. "Mr. Harper," he said, standing. "Excellent work on the Drive."  
  
"I am the greatest," Harper quipped, taking a seat.  
  
"Rommie, good to have you back."  
  
The avatar smiled, then looked down sheepishly. "Thank you. Dylan,Iâ€""  
  
He gave her a quizzical look. "Yes?"  
  
She glanced up at him, then down at the floor. "I am sorry that I failed in my mission. I let the Soltans best me and it cost you the use of two crewmembers. My dereliction of duty could have cost you the ship."  
  
Dylan smiled, his expression soft and understanding. "It happens."  
  
"But, Harper could have been killed."  
  
"It was battle. We all could have been killed." He crossed to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "But we weren't. So don't worry about it."  
  
"Butâ€""  
  
"That's an order."  
  
She nodded, dark hair swinging. "Understood."  
  
Beka frowned, staring at the viewscreen. "Where are they? We dumped those Soltan losers hours ago."  
  
"Anybody got any aspirin?" Harper asked. "Beka's whining's bringing my headache back like a tsunami."  
  
Beka shot him a dark look.  
  
"A Sparky might cure it?" he said with a hopeful lift of his brows.  
  
Beka scowled momentarily then let a smile creep over her face. Same old Harper.  
  
Rommie crossed to him, lifted the edge of his bandage and frowned. "Your wound is healing, Harper. Who's whining now?"  
  
"Hey! Who got whacked upside the head?"  
  
"Me," she stated.  
  
He waggled his eyebrows, admitting defeat.  
  
"Got 'em!" Beka called out. She pointed at the screen.  
  
"That's just a white dot. It could be a comet. Shoot, could be dust on the screen."  
  
Beka shook her head, her wide smile exposing large even white teeth. "It's them. I'd know my ship blindfolded."  
  
"Verified," Rommie said.  
  
Beka rubbed her hands together and dashed for the hanger bay. She realized with a start that she was looking forward to seeing Tyr, with all his posturing and he-man tactics.  
  
^j^  
  
Beka stood outside the airlock, staring through the porthole, slapping both hands on the door with impatience.  
  
Trance came out first, looking satisfied and sad simultaneously. Beka hugged her quickly. "Trance, you made it! What's up? What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, nothing ... just ... the baby was so cute and for a moment Iâ€""  
  
"Don't tell me you want one now?"  
  
"Well ... no."  
  
"She did well, Beka. She avoided a â€"" Rev Bem started to say as he came up behind Trance.  
  
Trance interrupted, "Something yucky that I'd rather not talk about." The less said the less that needed explaining. Her bruises had all but faded completely.  
  
"Well, I for one need food," Rev indicated, thinking fondly of the tank in his room teeming with live salmon. His stomach growled.  
  
"And I am looking forward to a steamy shower," said the voice Beka was waiting for.  
  
Beka's blue eyes widened and she suddenly found it hard to swallow. Her stomach clenched when she saw him, his clothes crusted with pink stuff. Unbidden, the image of him in a steamy shower sprang into her mind. Her knees trembled. Suddenly speechless, her mind raced as she tired to think of something intelligent to say. Tyr gave her a long look, his eyes twinkling, face revealing nothing. He brushed against her lightly as he passed, despite the fact that there was plenty of room in the corridor. He grinned as he walked away, knowing no one could see him.  
  
She swallowed hard and unobtrusively watched him leave and swagger away. She excused herself from her shipmates and strolled after him, intent on getting to her quarters and changing into something comfortable as quickly as possible or just jumping into a cold shower.  
  
"And the baby?" Dylan asked, joining them.  
  
"Safe and snug. Tucked away in a Wayist stronghold."  
  
"How'll he learn to rule in there? I mean, peace and love without stress won't make him that strong."  
  
Trance shrugged. "When the time comes I'm sure he'll have to leave. Experience the real world. But peace and love make a good foundation."  
  
"Wisdom through adversity tempered by peace?"  
  
"Exactly," she said, "at least this way he'll have a chance. The Priests will protect him, teach him negotiation, mercy, patience, and how to grow vegetables."  
  
Dylan grinned and tried not to chuckle. "Have to have that last one."  
  
"Yep," she said, "working in the fields will teach him humility and the value of hard work."  
  
Rev Bem smiled. "Spoken like a true child of the Way." He turned and strolled away.  
  
Dylan watched him go. "So, he'll learn empathy for the meek that he'll rule. Remind me to tell Rev Bem how good this idea was."  
  
"I will." She smiled broadly.  
  
Dylan patted her on the shoulder and left to rejoin Rommie in Command.  
  
Trance scampered down the corridor. She had a long overdue date with a tub full of bubbles. Her quarters were as tranquil and serene as always. Her gaze darted around the room, just to be certain she was alone. She was. Humming a lullaby, she secured her door, double-checked that privacy mode was engaged and skipped over to her bath. She swirled one finger in the water, enjoying the coolness.  
  
She stripped quickly and slid into the bath slowly, one inch at a time. The soft bubbles caressed her aching muscles and hugged her like a giant blanket. It soothed the barely visible bruises and calmed her instantly. She reclined against the cool metal of the tub and absorbed the scents stirred up by the bubbles. The smells melded into the memory of a planet long gone. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and held a hand out, palm up and dripping. She concentrated. The hazy image of three galaxies appeared, whirling lazily, then solidified into a clear image. She examined them, feeling with her sixth sense the ebb and flow of energy patterns. The various futures of the galaxies spread out before her. She sifted through them with her mind and smiled. All was as she wanted it, as it was supposed to be ... for now.  
  
She closed her hand and the image dissipated like fog.  
  
Letting her eyes drift shut, Trance Gemini sighed and settled in to enjoy a long and luxurious bubble bath.  
  
~~~ Finis ~~~  
  
Thank you kindly for reading. If you enjoyed this story, I'm very happy. Thank you for any feedback!  
  
Anna 


End file.
